


Taking Care

by Mackenzie Blair (Sidney_Allison)



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, POV Third Person, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-22 18:54:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3739756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sidney_Allison/pseuds/Mackenzie%20Blair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Justin hadn't met Brian that night on Liberty Avenue? Instead, he meets the infamous Brian Kinney during his second year of PIFA when he's working as an at-home caregiver...and he meets his new cancer patient: The Stud of Liberty Avenue. Can he force Brian to accept his help? More importantly, can he force Brian to accept that maybe, just maybe, Brian Kinney can fall in love?</p><p>Assumes everything else in the canon happened up to this point. Fun, sexy alternate universe for their romance.<br/>***STORY COMPLETE. ****<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The New Patient

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are welcome! (er, unless they're mean.) But one comment already made me write a new scene, so toss them out before I finish proofing and uploading.

** Chapter One **

Justin hurried out of his last class at PIFA only to run into Ethan, the violinist who’d been pursuing him relentlessly. Justin tried not groan in dismay, switching his sketch pad to his other arm, creating a small barrier between him and his admirer.

“Justin, I caught your show the other night. Really impressive work,” Ethan crooned, falling into step beside him. “Hey, want to grab dinner? Some wine, some cheese, some violin music…” Ethan gave him his best Casanova smile, and Justin tried not to hurl at the saccharine pick-up line.

Ethan had a reputation as a devoted lover…for a few months until he moved onto his next “soul mate.” It was a small school, and gossip traveled fast in the gay circles. Especially at an art school where the gay population was the majority.

“Uh, I’m late for work,” Justin replied, but he couldn’t be a total asshole, so he threw out. “Maybe some other time.” A time that would never happen. He didn’t go for soul patches or true love fairytales. He was a little more cynical than that after all he’d been through.

As Justin headed across campus, passing some friends and promising to meet them for drinks later, his phone rang. He smiled: Daphne.

“Hey,” he answered.

“Hey, are you headed to your new patient?” she asked.

“Yeah, but I’m worried. He’s younger than most, way younger, and cancer’s fucking intense. I’m used to dealing with the elderly, giving some diabetes shots.”

“You’ll be great,” she assured him, calming him as only his best friend could. Daphne was hardcore pre-med, and she’d helped Justin get a job as an at-home caregiver, which paid a hell of a lot more than other job he could find. And he needed serious money for PIFA’s tuition, since his father had cut him off.

Justin had spent the summer attending classes to become a medical tech. He wasn’t a full-blown nurse or anything, so Justin was more than a little surprised when the agency gave me this ill of a patient. But the client hadn’t wanted a nurse, just someone to take him to and from radiation, get him through the nausea and fatigue. And apparently, he was rather difficult to deal with. 

“He’s already fired two other guys,” Justin pointed out to Daphne.

“Actually, they were woman. And total wimps from what I hear. That’s why they assigned you. So go kick some ass…er, clean some vomit. Don’t actually kick a guy with cancer.”

“You’re a big help, Daph,” Justin said, rolling his eyes even though she couldn’t see him. He hung up and hurried to catch the bus, praying he’d be the one to keep the job. He really needed the work, and he’d made sure his schedule this semester meant only classes on Monday and Tuesday mornings except for one studio class Friday nights, so that he could get better clients, clients that needed larger blocks of time.

As the bus stopped near Liberty Avenue, Justin headed past the diner he liked and the club Babylon, which played the best music. He was only now getting to know the gay scene in Pittsburgh. Once, years ago, he’d tried to sneak out of Daphne’s house to explore Liberty Avenue; god, he’d been determined to get laid that night. But one tiny decision, to stop and tie his shoe in her backyard, had caused the security lights to come on and her parents to notice. They’d called his dad, and he’d flipped out, grounding Justin for a month.

Justin always wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t stopped to tie his damn shoe. He sighed. Nothing good. Coming out in high school would have made his senior year hell. At least, he’d made it all the way to prom before his world had been shattered.

Justin turned onto Tremont and headed inside an unimpressive brick building, deciding to take the stairs to the top rather than waiting for the elevator. He reached a large metal door and then braced himself before knocking. He knew this guy had a temper. Which he kinda respected him for. No need to be a wuss about cancer.

He gave three sharp knocks and waited. No answer. Justin started to knock again when he realized the sliding door was partially ajar. He pushed it open and tentatively stepped inside, “Hello?”

He looked around – the place was fucking amazing. Modern furniture, expensive fixtures, and a wall of windows. Not the usual type of apartment found in Pittsburgh. This guy had taste, expensive taste. But it didn’t look like his patient was home…and then Justin heard retching coming from what must be the bathroom.

“Ted Schmidt?” Justin called out, not wanting to scare his new patient.

“Fuck, FUCK,” Justin heard and then the flush of the toilet. “I have cancer but my life’s not that bad.”

Justin paused at the base of the steps, confused. “You’re not Ted Schmidt?”

“Not unless I’m dead and this is hell. Now fuck off.”

“Um, but I was hired to—“

“I don’t need a goddamn babysitter,” came the furious voice. “So fuck off!”

Justin hesitated. He really, really needed this job. And he didn’t give up that easy. He hadn’t survived the hell of high school, a near bashing, and his father’s fury to crawl away that easy. So what if his patient was an asshole? He’d dealt with a lot of assholes. Justin crossed the loft again, closed the door firmly, him still inside, and then calmly went to work in the kitchen. 

A few minutes later, the vomiting began again. Justin cringed. The guy was puking up his guts at this point; there couldn’t be anything else left. So Justin picked up the ginger tea he’d brewed, a warm washcloth, and headed into the trenches.

*  * *

Brian was pretty sure he was going to die on the bathroom floor. And maybe it was better than fighting cancer. Go out in a blaze of glory. Although this wasn’t exactly glorious. And the thought of his son, Gus, made him know he’d keep suffering through the damn radiation. He wanted to see his boy grow up. Brian rested his head on the toilet seat, not caring if it was unsanitary, feeling shittier than he ever had in his life.

And then suddenly, a warm washcloth was being pressed against his forehead, a hand soothing his back. He was so shocked, and it felt so damn good, that he allowed it for three whole seconds. And then, “I told you to fuck off.” It came out a lot weaker than Brian had intended.

“Yeah, I’m a persistent little shit,” the guy behind him replied. At least, Ted had sent a male this time. Like Brian would ever want a woman coddling over him, especially a motherly presence; Deb was enough to deal with, not that she knew. And anyone else seemed to sound as hollow as his frigid mother, Joan.

But this guy definitely did not sound like his mother, any mother. He better be fucking hot, Brian thought, and then realized that would actually suck more, because he wasn’t actually up to any sucking or fucking right now.

“Here, have some tea,” he heard.

Brian shook his head, “I can’t keep anything down.” He knew he should keep trying to throw the guy out, but he didn’t have the fucking energy. The adrenaline was wearing off, like it always did around this time of day.

“It’s ginger tea, it will calm your stomach. And if it doesn’t, at least you’ll have something to puke up.” Brian couldn’t argue with that logic, so he took the fucking cup and scooted back, leaning against the cold tile walls, eyes closed.

He heard the guy gasp. Shit, he must look like crap. Brian took a sip of the tea, then opened his eyes, and was shocked to see a gorgeous kid in front of him.

Well, maybe not a kid, but young, very young. He was almost beautiful with his shaggy blonde hair and big, blue eyes. Brian raked him with his most leering once-over, taking note of the twink’s hot body, decent bulge in his pants, but what about his—“Show me your ass,” Brian commanded.

The kid seemed to snap out of it, shocked by the sudden request, and then he smiled, a fucking brilliant smile that lit up his whole face. Fuck, this radiation was warping his mind.

“You’re Brian Kinney,” the kid said. “I mean, of course, you are. To say something like that and actually think I’ll obey.”

“I see my reputation proceeds me. And who the fuck are you?”

“Justin Taylor,” the kid said, holding out his hand.

Brian managed a smirk; ignoring the proffered handshake, “Don’t expect me to remember that. Now fuck off.”

Justin laughed, “Nope, I’m already paid for the day.”

Brian narrowed his eyes at him, “I’ll pay you a hundred dollars extra to go away.”

“Look, Mr. Kinney, you just got home from radiation, clearly you need help, and—”

“I don’t need any fucking help—“ but Brian’s exclamation was totally ruined when he suddenly lunged forward to puke up the sip of ginger tea. Then he dry heaved for a bit as the kid gently stroked his fingers through Brian’s hair, soothing him. And it actually kinda felt nice.

*  * *

Justin couldn’t believe he was in the infamous Brian Kinney’s loft, or that the stud of Liberty Avenue had fucking cancer. Talk about shitty luck. Even though he knew Brian’s reputation, he’d never actually gone home with him. He’d made sure to steer clear of Brian, because he knew if the man ever propositioned him, he’d say yes and then regret it. He didn’t want to be a one-night stand, at least not with Brian Kinney. He liked being able to keep the fantasy alive. Sure, he’d had a few one-night stands with tricks, some flings in college, and a pathetic freshman romance, but never had he been a conquest of Brian Kinney. The man who sounded like he was currently going through hell.

Justin soothed Brian’s back with small circles until he finished heaving up nothing but air, then he rewet the washcloth, and wiped Brian’s brow. This time Brian was too exhausted to argue.

“Do you think you can make it to the bed?” Justin asked, and was surprised when Brian just nodded. So Justin hooked his arms under Brian’s and helped the much taller man stand. He’d lost weight and was clearly haggard from the cancer, but Justin couldn’t help but notice the man was still fucking gorgeous. Just touching him made electricity thrum through his nerves – which was sick, he told himself, really sick. The poor guy had cancer and Justin was turned on.

Trying to put on a professional persona, Justin helped Brian onto his bed, then gently pushed him back into the pillows. But when he began to remove his socks, Brian practically kicked him away.

“I’m not an invalid,” he snapped.

Justin crossed his arms and glared at Brian, even though he was partially amused. “Look, I’m assuming this Ted Schmidt is your friend and hired me against your wishes, but I’m here now, so stop being a baby.”

“He’s not my friend, he’s my accountant, and he’s fucking fired,” Brian groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. “You’re fired too.”

“No.”

Brian opened one eye to peer at Justin, clearly not used to refusal, not used to anyone standing up to him really, so all he replied was, “What?”

“No,” Justin said firmly. “I need this job. I have bills to pay. And you need me. So how about you be a good patient and let me take off your clothes?”

Brian gave out a bark of laughter, “You wanna play doctor? Kinky.”

Justin blushed to the roots of his hair, realizing he’d made it sound like a proposition more than a medical order. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he huffed.

“You’re gay,” Brian asserted, giving him a disgusted look. “Just own up to it.”

Justin blinked, surprised, “I never said I wasn’t.”

Brian relaxed further into the pillows, obviously glad that he wasn’t dealing with a closeted fag. Justin had heard enough rumors about Brian Kinney’s life philosophy to know he couldn’t stand people without a spine, who didn’t own up to who they really were. And to him, being a fag was a fucking privilege. Justin considered that a pretty ballsy approached to life; one he’d tried to adopt.

Justin reached for Brian’s sock again, undeterred, and Brian quirked open a brow, “The only way your fucking undressing me is if you’re getting naked too.”

Brian almost fell out of his bed when Justin shrugged, “Okay.” And with that Justin kicked off his shoes and flung off his socks. Brian was too shocked to stop Justin when he reached down to remove Brian’s socks. Then he boldly leaned over and unsnapped Brian’s jeans, sliding them down his long, lean legs.

“Done that before, have you?” Brian gritted out, fighting another wave of nausea.

“Sure. Lots of times,” Justin replied, then suddenly grabbed both of Brian’s wrists and dug his thumbs into the tender flesh just above his palms. “Acupuncture,” Justin explained without Brian having to ask, “It’ll help with the nausea. Take deep breaths.”

Brian did, desperate for any relief, and in a few moments, the nausea began to recede. Enough so that Brian could point out, “You still have your pants on.”

Justin laughed, “You’re such a lech. I’m keeping them on, but you can watch me walk away while I get your meds and some soup.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Brian snapped.

“Because you want to see if I have a great ass,” Justin sassed back. He could not believe he was flirting with this man, but it seemed to be working. Diverting Brian’s attention from the hell he must be feeling.

“I’m sure it’s flat and flabby,” Brian countered.

Justin leaned in, “It’s so fucking perfect you’re going to beg me to stay.”

Brian let out a surprised laugh, “Jesus, you’re a twat. Go make fucking soup.”

Knowing he’d won a major battle, Justin stood up and slowly turned around to head down the steps; he even wiggled his ass as he walked away, knowing Brian was indeed checking him out.

*  *  *  


Brian watched him go, his breath caught in his chest. Fuck, the kid had the best goddamn ass he’d ever seen. It was a thing of glory. “How old are you?” he called after Justin, wondering if this kid was even past his teens. 

“Twenty!” Justin called back.  “Old enough.”

“Old enough for what?” Brian taunted.

“Old enough to deal with you.”

Brian let that one slide. He really doubted the kid would last more than a day, but he was sure as hell curious to find out. With what little strength he had left, he pulled off his t-shirt and collapsed back into bed. If it weren’t for the ugly surgery stitches, he’d peel off his boxers too and see if he could give the kid a heart attack. That amusing thought was the last one he had as he sank into a deep sleep.


	2. Blow Me

** Chapter Two **

“Come blow me,” was the first thing that Justin heard after hours of silence. He’d been innocently sketching, okay not so innocently sketching, a drawing of Brian half-naked. By the time he’d returned to the bedroom, Brian had curled under the covers, but Justin could tell he’d removed his shirt, and he was more than curious to see Brian’s naked chest. He’d resisted the urge to pull back the duvet and look. But he hadn’t stamped down his imagination from trying to draw it.

Justin had curled up on the sofa with his art supplies and let the man sleep while he sketched in a toned and muscular chest that he imagined the gorgeous Brian Kinney had. Now he turned to stare into his patient’s demanding hazel eyes.

“I said, come blow me,” Brian repeated.

“I’m not a prostitute,” Justin pointed out. “But I’ll blow on some soup for you,” he offered with an impish smile.

He watched as Brian groaned and closed his eyes again, “You were supposed to be offended.”

“I’m supposed to be a lot of things that I’m not.”

“Like what?” Brian couldn’t help but ask.

Justin shrugged, “Like a business major at Dartmouth. Like straight.”

“Says who?” Brian snapped.

Justin couldn’t believe he’d revealed so much to a stranger, but he answered anyway, “My father.”

“Father’s are worthless. You only have yourself in this world, that’s all you need.”

Justin smiled. Once those words might have sounded like gospel to him, but he’d heard enough late night philosophizing at PIFA to take statements like this with a grain of salt.

“Do you want soup?” Justin offered again.

“Stop with the fucking soup.”

“Well, you need food if you’re going to take your meds.”

“I don’t want drugs. Well, at least not those drugs.”

“What do you want then?” Justin persisted, trying to find some way to do his job.

“I already told you,” Brian said with a smirk.

Justin rolled his eyes, “Besides my mouth on your dick.”

Brian’s eyebrows shot up, “Such dirty talk for such a young boy.”

“I’m not a boy,” he countered. Justin stood up and headed towards the kitchen. Ignoring Brian’s wishes, Justin nuked some soup while he reread all the pill bottles on the counter. He checked the labels again although he’d already memorized the instructions and the file the agency had sent him. The microwave dinged, so he scooped three pills into his pocket, grabbed a spoon, and then carefully carried the soup to the bed.

Brian glared at him in disgust. Justin ignored him, sitting on the side of the platform bed. He spooned up some broth, blew on it, then lifted it to Brian’s mouth. Brian crossed his arms, pouting, refusing to eat.

Justin narrowed his eyes at him. “Open your fucking mouth or I will twist your balls so hard, you’ll only have one left.” Justin was not expecting Brian to bust out laughing at this threat, literally curling into himself in hysterics.

Justin frowned in confusion, and then it hit him with sickening thud. “Oh god, please don’t tell me you have—“

“Testicular cancer, that’s right, only one ball left. You gonna take that from me too? They fucking teach you this bedside manner in nursing school?”

Justin dropped the spoon and set down the bowl with a resounding thud on the floor, then he buried his head in his hands. “Oh god, oh god, I’m so sorry.”

*  * *

Justin looked up at Brian with his most pitiful expression he’d ever seen in his life. Even Mikey had never made puppy dog eyes that sad. And for some reason, it thawed something in Brian.

“Just give me the fucking soup,” he snapped. Justin bit his lip, and shit the kid looked close to tears, as he lifted the spoon to Brian’s mouth. Brian dutifully swallowed then snapped, “Jesus, don’t go all soft on me now.” And he meant it. For a few minutes, he’d actually felt normal, enjoying sparring with Justin.

And he was pleased as hell when the kid squared his shoulders and nodded, thrusting another spoonful of soup in his mouth. Neither of them said another word as Justin fed Brian the soup. Neither of them acknowledged that Justin was very interested in watching Brian’s tongue scoop up the liquid, or that he wiped Brian’s lips with the napkin just because he wanted to, not because there was anything to wipe. No, they both ignored that as well as the stirring in Brian’s groin. It wasn’t a full hard-on by any means, Brian hadn’t had one of those since the surgery, but it was enough to indicate that he was enjoying Justin’s presence maybe just a little bit.

When the bowl was empty, Justin reluctantly set it aside and took out the pills. He reached for a glass of water he’d left on Brian’s nightstand and passed it to Brian, who dutifully downed the pills then leaned back.

“Feel better?” Justin asked.

Brian just shrugged.

“Do you want to sleep more?”

Brian shook his head. So Justin asked, “Well, what do you want to do then?”

“You’re not coming back tomorrow,” Brian calmly stated.

Justin bit his lip, putting on his most pleading look, “But I really need this job.”

“You’ll get another one.”

Justin sighed, “Sometimes, a man needs to know when to ask for help.”

Now why the hell had the kid said that? Brian shifted a bit, not really meaning to speak his thoughts aloud: “Deb said that to me once after…a long time ago.”

“Who’s Deb?” Justin asked, curious.

Brian couldn’t believe he’d revealed anything personal, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Justin who Deb was. But still, Justin had a point. He was barely making it through the radiation on his own. And it was only going to get worse. He’d also actually enjoyed himself for a while today with this kid, which was saying a lot, a hell of a lot. In fact…

”I’ll tell you what. You kiss me, and you can stay one more day,” Brian offered.

Justin blinked up at him in confusion, “Huh?”

“One kiss, one more day of work.”

“I told you I’m not a prostitute.”

“Jesus, who said you were? You asked me what I wanted to do. That’s what I want to do. Make-out.”

“You said a kiss, not making out.”

Brian smiled, knowing he had him. “Look, if you don’t think you can handle kissing me, if you can’t fulfill the wish of a man with cancer…”

Justin slapped Brian on the stomach, not even realizing how familiar he was being, and said, “Oh please, don’t play the cancer card.”

“Come on, little boy, show me what you got,” Brian taunted.

Justin shook his head, but couldn’t help but smile.

Brian reached out and cupped the back of Justin’s head, his fingers sinking into the long blonde hair, drawing him closer. He could feel Justin shiver from the contact. Oh this boy liked sex, he liked it a lot. But Brian had a feeling he was still looking for someone who could make him love it, crave it, need it. Match him, teach him, challenge him.

Justin stopped when his lips were just inches away from Brian, “One kiss, one more _week_.”

“Two days.”

“Four?” Just countered.

“Three,” Brian offered, making it clear he wasn’t going any further.

“Deal,” Justin said, and then he leaned in all the way and placed his lips against Brian’s firm mouth. He was clearly hoped to get in and out with minimal damage, a chaste kiss, but that wasn’t going to happen.

The moment Justin’s lips touched his, Brian took over with all the skill, finesse, and fucking raw sex appeal he was famous for. He thrust his fingers into Justin’s hair, gripping his head, roughly pulling him close. His tongue teased the edge of Justin’s lips, then he nibbled, bit, demanded entry. And Justin gave it. Brian swooped in, his tongue thrusting into Justin’s mouth, hard, wet, swirling with Justin’s tongue. The kid met him thrust for thrust as his hips rocked against Brian's thigh, his need obvious, the moans he was making sexy as hell. And Brian felt like himself for the first time since his diagnosis.

*  * *

Justin couldn't remember ever being this turned on so quickly. Brian kissed the way he probably fucked. Hard, ruthless perfection. God, it was the way Justin had always hoped kissing would feel like. He almost whimpered when he felt Brian’s hands sliding under his shirt, squeezing his ribs, massaging his taut abs. And then Brian pinched and twisted his nipple, yanking on his nipple ring, causing a jolt of harsh pleasure to shoot straight to his cock. Fuck, _fuck._

Justin pulled back, gasping for breath. Shit, Kinney lived up to his reputation. Or maybe Justin had just had terrible lovers so far. But he needed more, so much more. Not thinking of the consequences, Justin braced his hands on either side of Brian’s chest and leaned in, his tongue thrusting in strongly, leading the kiss, catching Brian off guard as he pressed Brian back into the bed, becoming the aggressor.

Justin couldn’t stop himself from pressing his rock hard erection against Brian’s strong thigh as he ripped his mouth away to nip along Brian’s neck, biting a bit too roughly, loving the way his teeth sank into Brian’s muscles.

“Fuck,” he heard Brian moan. It was all the invitation Justin needed. Giving into temptation, he shoved the duvet down to Brian’s waist, then pulled back to stare at Brian’s gorgeous chest – lean, toned, muscled, tanned. Justin moaned low in the back of his throat.

“See something you like?” Brian asked with an arching brow and a smirk.

“You’re fucking gorgeous. Better than my drawing.” Justin ran his hand up Brian’s chest, watching the muscles rippling in response, his nipples hardening. He leaned down and licked a long line from Brian's right nipple, down to his belly button, dipping inside, then kissing down his happy trail until he bit down, hard, at the waistband of Brian's briefs. He pulled the briefs back with his teeth and gave one quick lick even lower, desperately wanting to taste Brian, to see all of him. 

*  * *

At the same moment, Brian realized his own dick wasn’t responding at all. There was nothing to find in his briefs but his flaccid failure. It sobered him like a bucket of cold water, and he thrust Justin away from him, causing the kid to practically fall onto the floor.

“I said I wanted to kiss, not be attacked by an overeager twink,” Brian snapped.

Justin blinked rapidly a few times, trying to figure what the hell had happened. Brian watched as anger replaced the lust in Justin’s eyes. He pushed himself into a standing position and glared down at Brian.

“Anything else I can get for you, _Mr. Kinney?”_

“Go home,” snapped Brian, but Justin just annoyingly shook his head.

“I’m paid to stay the night. Normally there’s a cot or something.”

“Do I look like I have a fucking cot for a nursemaid?”

Justin shrugged, “The sofa’s fine.”

“Look, I don’t need you, I’m fine now. Just get your things and go.”

“Food, laundry, groceries, errands – don’t you have some of those that need doing?”

“I didn’t know nurses did anything more than empty bedpans and take your temperature. Tell me, where do you like to put the thermometer?” he asked with a smirk.

Justin started picking up Brian’s clothes and folding them. “I’m not a nurse. I’m a caregiver.”

“A fucking what?”

“You heard me,” Justin snapped, annoyed that the earlier moments of pleasure had now turned into this bitching match. “I’m a trained EMT, but not a nurse. I go to school at PIFA.”

“Jesus, Ted really skimped on it this time. Sent me a fucking painter. What do you do, lame-ass caricatures in the park? Watercolors of rainbows and flowers?”

Justin grabbed his sketchbook and tossed it on Brian’s lap. “I sketch assholes.”

And with that, Justin stomped down the stairs to the kitchen. Brian listened as the kid banged around for god knows what, then looked down at the picture in his lap. He drew his brow together in surprised – the kid was talented, really talented, and he’d drawn Brian with amazing detail. He’d even made Brian look healthy again, rather than the shit-show he currently knew he looked and felt like. He let out a ragged breath. He hadn’t realized how much it bothered him, this kid thinking of him as a sick person, an invalid. It chaffed against his pride. He didn’t let anyone see him vulnerable, ever. But this kid had already watched him puke his guts out a few times today before passing out in sheer exhaustion.

He waited until Justin finally appeared once more, a pad and paper in hand. “You don’t have any food,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I’ll go pick up groceries. Anything in particular you want?”

 _You_ , came to Brian’s mind first but he quickly stamped it down. Jesus, what the hell was wrong with him?

“Cigarettes and Jim Beam,” Brian replied instead of his lesbian sentiment. It had to be the radiation turning him into a muncher. I mean, hell, it was frying his only remaining ball.

“Anything that won’t bring you closer to death?” Justin asked.

“Guava juice,” Brian snapped. “Avocado, peanut butter.”

Justin quickly wrote that down, then gave a quick nod. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Don’t bother,” Brian said, fighting against the fatigue trying to claim him again. He’d be damned if the boy saw him weak again. But Justin didn’t seem to care. He grabbed his coat and let himself out of the loft quickly.

Relieved, Brian let sleep claim his once more.

*  * *

Brian awoke with a roar, his head pounding, his ball on fire. Sweat bathed his body, his legs tangled in the sheets. It was pitch dark in the apartment. This was it. This was the end.

He saw a blur of motion and then Justin was by his side. Brian felt a wave of relief; he wasn’t alone.

“What’s wrong? What hurts?” Justin’s hair was ruffled, his eyes quickly coming in to alertness. He must have been asleep on the sofa.

“Head. Pounding,” Brian managed to grit out.

Justin nodded and quickly hurried over to his meds in the kitchen. “I don’t see anything for a migraine,” he replied, trying to tamp down the panic.

Brian groaned, feeling a horrendous wave of nausea overtake him. He’d never make it to the bathroom, but he had to try. He managed to get one foot on the floor, and then somehow, miraculously, Justin was by his side with a trashcan and Brian emptied his bowels, the chicken soup from dinner.

Justin soothingly brushed back his hair, murmuring, “It’s okay, you’re okay.” Brian had thrown up countless times in his life, sick as a child, the flu in high school, food poisoning in college, too many drugs, too much liquor, but never had anyone soothed him while it happened. Sure, Mikey’d pulled him off the cold tile floor a few times, but never this. Never this comfort. If he let himself go, he might give into the sensation, and then he knew he was doomed. Because sooner or later, it would go away.

As soon as he could, Brian jerked back from Justin’s touch and collapsed onto the bed. Justin didn’t seem to notice or be bothered by it. He was already up and headed back to the kitchen, trying to find a solution.

“I think it’s a side effect of one of your medications. I’ll call the doctor,” Justin called out.

“No,” Brian managed to get out. “And…don’t…yell.” He gritted out. Justin sent him an apologetic look, but nodded.

In a stage whisper, he said, “I’ll call my friend Daphne, she’s premed.”

Brian rolled his eyes but couldn’t properly mock the fact two college kids were in charge of his health. His head was fucking pounding, and he thought his skull might literally break apart. The ache in his ball that had been radiated was a dull throb in the background of his head pain.

A while later, Brian didn’t know how long, he felt a cool washcloth on his head and a glass of water being brushed against his lips. “You need to take these for the migraine,” Justin urged.  Brian didn’t care if he was being handed cyanide pills; he’d take them and be grateful if it made the torture end.

*  *  *

Justin stared down at Brian feeling utterly helpless as the man writhed in pain. He was curled inward, one free hand cupping his balls, which Justin could only imagine were in agony. He hadn’t seen Brian use any of the soothing lotions or gels he was supposed to on the tender flesh. Brian’s other hand was thrown over his eyes, blocking out any light, even moonlight, and gritting his teeth against the pain. It was horrible to watch.

Justin untangled the covers from Brian’s limbs, smoothed them out, and then headed to the freezer for ice as he prayed the migraine medication would soon kick in. By the time he returned to the bed, Brian seemed to at least be groaning less. Justin gently wiped the washcloth along Brian’s face, smoothing away the sweat. Then he leaned down and whispered, “This is cold, but it will help.” And then he placed the bag of ice in a place that Brian Kinney would probably kill him for; but if it eased the ache in his groin, so be it. Brian stiffened at the cold, but then feeling the relief, let it happen.

Justin bit his lip, not sure what to do. He didn’t want to leave Brian in this state and go back to the sofa. There’s no way he could sleep while Brian was in pain. So Justin tip toed to the far side of the bed and gingerly sat down. Brian seemed oblivious, so Justin settled himself more firmly on a pillow. He watched as over the course of thirty minutes, Brian finally started to relax and fell into a fitful sleep. Justin considered using the soothing gels on Brian’s burnt flesh, but knew he’d be fired immediately, so instead, he let himself drift off to sleep eventually too.


	3. Day Two

  **Chapter Three**

Brian looked at the sleeping blonde next to him and wondered how the hell his life had come to this. A hot, gorgeous man was in bed with him – fully clothed, utterly unfucked. Shit, it was the final insult. But Brian could help staring at him for long minutes – he looked so fucking peaceful, so angelic. But the kid was stubborn and tough despite his looks; Justin could handle what Brian had dished out the night before, seemed unfazed really by his temper and crudeness; and despite the cancer that had literally eaten his manhood, Justin had also been hot as hell for him. Too bad Brian hadn’t been up to the challenge. Literally.

Brian gingerly sat up and tentatively put his feet on the hardwood floor. He waited to see if a wave of nausea would come, but he seemed okay for the moment. He hoisted himself off the bed, his muscles sore, his groin aching, and hobbled into the bathroom for a piss. Then he started the shower, knowing the hot water would help revive him as it did most mornings. He was so fucking tired though, so he spent half the shower leaning against the glass enclosure.

Finally, Brian pushed himself out from under the water’s spray, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around him. He carefully avoided looking in the mirror until his towel was secured. He couldn’t stand to see the surgical scar. He almost jumped when he heard a knock on the door.

“Can I pee?” came the muffled question, clearly urgent. Brian tried not to smile. Instead, he yanked open the door and jerked his head to the toilet.

“Thanks,” Justin said with a smile and hurried to relieve himself. Brian tried to check him out in the mirror, but, sadly, Justin had kept his back to him. Smart kid.

Finished, Justin came over to wash his hands, then grabbed an extra toothbrush he’d apparently used the night before. Brian glared at him, “Please, make yourself at home.”

Justin ignored the sarcasm and blithely smiled, “Thanks.” Then started brushing his teeth as Brian slathered on shaving cream. “You want me to shave you?” Justin asked around a mouth of toothpaste.

Brian gave him a death look, but the kid was still unfazed. Fucking annoying. Also kind of impressive. “Like you know how to shave, blondie,” Brian retorted, infusing it with all his pent up frustration.

Justin just shrugged. “My agency said you go into work every morning despite the radiation.”

“I have a business to run,” Brian said casually, trying very hard to pretend the hell of yesterday had never happened. Just like he did every day after radiation.

“It’s pretty impressive you already have your own ad agency at your age.”

“I know,” Brian smirked.

“So then radiation at eleven, right? I’ll pick you up after. My classes are over by noon.”

“You’re not picking me up. I can get there all by myself and then all the way home again. Besides, I go into Kinnetik for a few hours afterwards.”

Brian could tell Justin wanted to tell him that was a stupid idea, but he clearly thought better of it, spit out his toothpaste and offered instead, “I’ll start the coffee.”

And he slipped out before Brian could protest. By the time Brian was buttoning up his shirt, the smell of coffee made him almost weak with relief. A few seconds later, he stepped into the kitchen and found himself confronted with a large cup of coffee and sliced fruit. He really wanted to ignore Justin’s homey efforts, but fuck he was hungry. So he quickly ate, then grabbed his keys, all without saying a damn word. Again, Justin seemed unfazed.

“See you later,” he called.

Brian almost told him to go to hell, but they had a deal, didn’t they. Three days. So instead he just grunted out, “Later.”

And then he was gone. Not even giving a second thought to leaving a stranger to lock up his loft.

*  * *

Justin arrived at Kinnetik at 2pm, just as Ted had told him to. Apparently, this was the time when the radiation effects started to kick in and Brian refused to leave work. Ted had assured him that Brian would let him drive the corvette back to the loft, so Justin had taken the bus.

As Justin approached the double doors, he realized the rumors were true. Brian had opened up his offices in a former bathhouse. Justin smiled; it was fitting. He also loved the name Kinnetik, he should; he’d come up with it. Not that Brian knew that. One night, he’d overheard Brian and his friends talking about his new ad agency at Woody’s, and he’d scribbled the name on a napkin and sent it over with a drink. Then he’d hurried out of the bar like the coward he was before they realized he’d been eavesdropping. Maybe someday he’d tell Brian he’d been the man behind mystery napkin.

Justin saw a blonde woman heading out of the office he presumed was Brian’s with a harried look on her face. She spotted Justin immediately, “Can I help you?” she asked.

“Uh, I’m Justin. Ted told me to come by,” Justin was afraid to reveal anymore; he wasn’t really sure who knew about Brian’s cancer. But by the way Cynthia pulled him aside with a pointed look, he decided this lady knew almost everything about Brian.

“Oh thank god,” she said.

Clearly, she was in on the secret. “Um, where’s Ted?” Justin asked, curious to meet the man who had actually hired him and dared risking the wrath of Brian.

“Brian fired him this morning,” Cynthia casually responded. Noting Justin’s horrified expression, she reassured him, “It happens all the time. Don’t worry about. It’s actually nice for Ted; he gets a half day vacation and sometimes even a pay increase when Brian lets him return.”

“Oh, okay,” Justin said, not really sure how to react to such an unconventional and mildly dysfunctional friendship.

Cynthia pushed Justin towards Brian’s office. “Now don’t make a big deal though as you drag him out of here. Just pretend—pretend you’re his masseuse or a client or a trick. No, he’d never bring a trick here. Shit. No one else in the company knows,” she explained, as if I hadn’t figured it out from her terrible cover story attempts.

“I’m an artist at PIFA; I could be doing freelance work,” Justin offered.

“Yes, yes, that’s it; you’re shadowing him for school, like an intern or something. ‘Course he’d never doing anything that benevolent unless,” she lit up with an idea. “We’ll say that your dad owns a major corporation and Brian wants his business. Okay, go get ‘em,” and she actually slapped him on the ass like a football player.

He looked at her in shock, but she just shrugged innocently. “What? You have a great ass.”

Justin laughed; no wonder she got along with Brian. He hesitated at the glass doors of Brian’s office, knocked hesitantly, and then pushed inside. He scanned the room and found Brian collapsed on the sofa.

“Cynthia, I said hold my calls.”

“I’m not Cynthia,” Justin explained with a cheerful tone. “I’m here to pick you up.”

Brian rolled his head towards him. “I always do the picking up and it’s either in the backroom of Babylon or at the baths, so fuck off,” he snapped.

Justin, highly amused at Brian’s alpha answer, said, “I bet you’re always on top too.”

“Of course, I’m a fucking top. Unlike you,” he added.

Justin headed over to the sofa, realizing Brian had no intention of leaving easily. But Justin didn’t mind. He liked a challenge.

“Why can’t I be a top?” Justin asked innocently as he lifted Brian’s feet off the couch and dragged him into a sitting position, praying that Brian hadn’t already hit the nausea phase.

Brian gave him an utterly disgusted look. “Are you kidding? Look at you. Look at that ass. You were born to be a bottom.”

Justin shrugged, “Then I guess I’m not living up to my potential. You need any paperwork brought home?” Justin picked up the briefcase at Brian’s feet and headed over to the large desk, motioning to see if Brian needed any of the files or concept boards.

“You’ve never fucking bottomed,” Brian stated, dumbfounded, as he read between the lines of what Justin _didn’t_ say.

Justin cringed; he hadn’t really meant to be that obvious. He didn’t really need Brian Kinney dissecting his sex life, so instead of acknowledging the statement, he said instead: “I’m going to take that as a no paperwork needed. Let me grab your coat…”

Justin snagged the coat off the back of the chair and handed it to Brian. But Brian’s refused to budge, just kept staring at him like some mutant homosexual.

“How the fuck have you never bottomed?”

Clearly, Brian wasn’t going to let this topic go, but instead of answering, Justin decided to counter, trying to get Brian off the topic. “Have _you_ ever bottomed?”

“Of course,” Brian instantly responded, and Justin almost stumbled in shock. Brian Kinney was an infamous top. A legend in the backrooms of Pittsburg…and probably a few other cities. He was sure that if Brian had ever bottomed, he would have heard the tale. All of Pittsburg would have heard the tale. It would have been front-page news in gay community.

“Really?” Justin managed to eke out.

Brian laughed and said, “I’m a fucking homosexual. Taking a dick up the ass is one of the joys of being queer.”

Justin reeled at the information Brian had just casually thrown out. Probably to shock him. Well, he’d succeeded. He’d also made Justin wonder why hadn’t he ever bottomed? Sure, he’d been curious, but no one he’d dated had seemed confident enough to top. He’d always just fallen into that role. Or, well, maybe he just always made it clear that was how things would go. He preferred the control; he preferred not being so…vulnerable. And maybe, just maybe, it kept his father’s accusatory voice out of his head that his son “took cock up the ass.” If he never actually did, maybe his father wouldn’t hate him so much? Jesus, that was fucked up logic, and Justin was shocked he’d never analyzed his feelings before. It almost made him want to go out and get topped immediately. Almost, but not quite.

Luckily, Brian saved him from any more deep introspection. “Besides, you can’t be a good top, or in my case, a fucking amazing top, unless you’ve bottomed at least once or twice.”

“When was the last time you bottomed?” Justin asked, and he immediately saw that he’d crossed some invisible line. Brian might talk about it in the abstract, but not about the specifics. No, that was off limits.

“Before you were born,” Brian snapped in answer, which Justin knew wasn’t actually possible. Brian wasn’t _that_ much older than him. “Now _fuck off_.”

Justin sighed and glared at Brian. “No, I’m here to take you home, so that you can puke in the privacy of your own bathroom.”

“Nice fucking try,” Brian said and casually opened a file on the coffee table and began reading about his latest client.

Justin tapped his foot, watching this insane display of stubbornness. “Seriously?”

Brian just ignored him and kept reading.

Justin tried another tactic, “Fine, I’m here to seduce you, to take you home and ravage you…” Brian looked up and cocked a brow at this, so Justin revised his words: “Um, to let _you_ ravage _me_?”

*  * *

Brian gave a bark of laughter. How the hell could this kid be making him laugh when minutes ago he’d actually considered rolling into a pathetic little ball of pain and crying?

“Better,” Brian said, enjoying the verbal sparring, but he could also feel the buzz starting to reach out from the point of radiation, warning him that hell would be arriving very soon. So he put on his usual smirk, pushed himself up, resolutely ignoring the dizziness he felt, and grabbed his coat from Justin.

“Maybe, if you’re lucky, I’ll tie you up,” Brian offered as he sailed out of his office.

Justin’s jaw dropped open, “You’ll tie me up?” But Brian was already out the front doors of Kinnetik, leaving Justin behind with that taboo and fucking hot image in his head. He realized Cynthia was in the doorway, starting at him in confusion, and Justin quickly scurried past her.

Brian was leaning against the corvette when Justin finally caught up with him.

“Give me the keys,” he demanded, and Justin decided not to argue. He tossed them in the air and Brian deftly caught them. Then he slid in next to Brian, and watched with admiration how Brian weaved his way through traffic, the windows down, air blowing, as they sped towards his loft.

Brian almost forgot he was sick, really sick, until they reached his building, and struggled to lift the gate on the elevator, the strength draining out of him. As casually as possible, Justin helped heft up the elevator door, then yanked it back down. When they reached Brian’s floor, Justin snagged the keys out of Brian’s hand and unlocked the loft door.

Brian moved past him, punching in the alarm code, and then Justin slammed closed the door. Without breaking his stride, Justin immediately started divesting Brian of his clothing. Brian was so shocked he just let the kid loosen and slide off his tie, undo the buttons on his shirt, then unbuckle his belt.

“I guess you really are seducing me,” Brian said with a smirk, trying to hide the shaking in his hands, trying to hide the fact he wouldn’t have been able to undress on his own.

And Justin accepted the lie, giving a small smile, “I’m very good at my job,” and then he hooked his fingers into Brian’s pants and slowly pulled the older man towards the bedroom. With a small push, Brian landed in the middle of the mattress, watching Justin with wary eyes.

Justin turned to the dresser, “Do you have pajama bottoms?’

Brian snorted, “I sleep naked.”

“Someone must have given you pajamas for Christmas, a birthday present perhaps,” and he started opening drawers looking for such a gift.

“Bottom drawer,” Brian offered, closing his eyes and swallowing hard. The side effects were about to take over. Justin started to move to Brian, but before he could, Brian was up, grabbing the pajama bottoms from his hand and slamming into the bathroom. The door was closed firmly in Justin’s face.

Brian barely made it to the toilet in time before he started puking up his breakfast toast. He’d found that eating something for breakfast so he could throw it up later was actually very helpful. He didn’t know how long he prayed to the porcelain god before he finally felt safe enough to lean back against the tile. Only a few moments passed before Justin, his little nursemaid, cautiously opened the door.

Justin noted the pajama bottoms tossed on the floor, Brian only clad in boxers, as he entered the room. Brian didn’t even bother looking at him. He didn’t have the energy. Justin slid down next to him.

“I brought you a treat,” Justin offered.

“Your cock?” Brian retorted.

Justin laughed, “It’s really impressive how you do that, the sexual innuendo, even when you’re this fucked up. And…I brought you something to get you even more fucked up.”

Brian managed to open one eye to see what the hell the kid was talking. And between the Justin’s fingers: a joint. But not one from Brian’s stash. No, this joint looked freshly rolled.

Justin saw the question in Brian’s eyes, “My friend has a medical marijuana license. It helps with the nausea. I bet you could get a card too.”

“Finally, a redeeming aspect of cancer,” Brian gritted out.

“See, glass half full.”

“Are you always this goddamn cheerful?” Brian snapped.

Justin sobered for a moment. “No, no, I’m not.”

Brian wanted to ask more, wanted to know what the hell had caused the kid’s mood to shift so fast, to make this sunshine boy suddenly sound older and darker. And fuck if he didn’t find the kid more attractive for it. This morning in radiation he’d actually thought about the boy and had decided that his memories were wrong. Justin couldn’t have been that hot…that beautiful. But then Justin had waltzed into his office, and it had hit Brian like a ton of bricks. The kid was gorgeous. And funny and smart and a persistence little shit.

Justin lit the joint, took a small toke, then handed it to his patient. Brian accepted it and took a long hit, then another, and a third. Then he handed it back to Justin, whom Brian noticed only took a small hit before grinding it out. He was surprised when the kid didn’t start immediately talking again, but instead just sat there in silence. Not awkward silence. But companionable, almost normal.

Brian felt the room stop spinning a bit, well, at least stop spinning in a bad way. He felt the weed, the fucking grade A weed, seep through his body, making his muscles relaxed, his thoughts settle, the harsh reality of his morning radiation mellow. He let the drug him through him, taking off the edge.

“It’s good shit,” Brian finally said.

Justin smiled and rolled his head to look at him. “Yeah. You hungry?’

Brian shook his head.

“Do you want to get into bed?” Justin offered.

“I want…a sponge bath.”

Justin blinked his eyes a few times, not sure he’d heard correctly. “You—what?”

“Hmm,” Brian mused, more than a little stoned. “I read on your website that a caregiver’s services include many things, one of them being sponge baths for their sick or elderly patients.”

“You’re not _that_ elderly,” Justin retorted.

“Fuck you,” Brian said with a glare. “I am, however, battling the big C, so man up, nursey, it’s time for my sponge bath.” His words rang with smug glee…

*  * *

Justin felt like throttling the man he’d been feeling sorry for only a few short minutes before.

Justin pushed himself to his feet. “No way,” he snapped. Now Brian was just taking advantage. And there was no way he could bathe this—this gorgeous man and not make an ass of himself.

Brian tisked, standing much slower and much more cautiously. “I’ll just have to call your supervisor then.” And damned if he didn’t stride into the bedroom and grab his cell phone. He even seemed to have the number programmed in. Clearly, the man had known Justin would balk.

“Yes, this is Brian Kinney,” he said into the phone when someone answered. “You sent over a Justin—something or other—and we seem to be having—“

Justin yanked the phone out of his hand and hung up. “Fine, you win. And it’s Taylor, Justin _Taylor,_ you sicko.”

Brian collapsed onto the bed in satisfaction, “I am sick, you’re right. See, what an agreeable patient I’m being.”

Justin muttered and cursed under his breath as he stomped into the kitchen. He found a large bowl and started to run the tap for hot water. Then he searched through the bathroom for linens, and found a washcloth. He didn’t even bother to look at Brian, who’d now disrobed down to his boxers, as he stomped back to the kitchen. Justin turned off the tap and dug through his bath for the lavender soap he always used for his patients. Yes, he’d given sponge baths before, but normally it was to elderly people. Once he’d helped out a woman, about forty, with a badly broken leg, and sure, she’d flirted with him some and been a bit embarrassed, but none, _none_ , of his clients had even been like Brian Kinney.

Justin carried his supplies into the bedroom and paused on the steps. Brian was on his back, partially asleep, and without his dry wit to mask the cancer, Brian suddenly did look very exhausted. Almost too exhausted to bathe himself. Feeling compassion take root once more, Justin’s dark mood lightened considerably as he sat down on the side of the bed.

“Hurry up, sonny boy, I’m in need of your services,” Brian mumbled into the pillow, and this time Justin smiled. He really was very funny. So he must have friends. But where were they?

Justin had noticed a few blinking messages on the answering machine, and overheard Brian playing them this morning, but none of his friends (besides Ted) seemed to have a clue about his cancer. They just wanted to meet at Woody’s or Babylon, figured he was MIA tricking at the baths or overwhelmed with work. And Brian didn’t seem to have any family to care of him either. No, Brian seemed pretty alone, and that could be even harder than the physical repercussions of cancer. Everybody needed comfort, a little tenderness, and so Justin decided it wasn’t so bad after all to sponge bathe the gorgeous man in front of him.

Justin wet the washcloth then squeezed out the excess water. Brian lay on his stomach, his head nestled into the pillows, the sheets tossed off. He was only covered in his loose briefs. Justin brushed away Brian’s hair at the nape of his neck and then pressed the warm washcloth against his skin, running it down his spine with one smooth stroke. He smiled when Brian sighed at the soothing contact and seemed to totally relax. Justin ran the washcloth along Brian’s long, muscled arms, then he dampened the washcloth once more, and turned his attention to Brian’s back. It rippled under Justin’s ministrations and he watched as Brian’s toes curled when Justin reached the small of Brian’s spine. He smiled to himself, then moved onto Brian’s long legs, spending time on Brian’s feet. Justin had never really thought of someone’s feet as sexy before, but Brian’s high arches and tanned toes were perfectly formed. He stifled back a laugh as he pictured Brian in a ballet class with his graceful feet. 

“What’s so funny?” Brian mumbled.

“You, in a tutu.”

“You’re fucking high,” Brian said and this made Justin laugh out loud. Yeah, he was probably a bit high. “Feel free to use your tongue instead of that towel.”

“You’re supposed to be relaxing, not getting all riled up.”

“You think you can rile me up?”

“I know so. Now be quiet, I’m working here.”           

Justin reached for some strawberry lotion in his back and set to work on kneading Brian’s feet, using what he’d learned in a reflexology class. He believed in Western medicine, but also felt there was room for Eastern medicine, and as he felt Brian’s tension release as he massaged the man, he knew it was working. He wondered how Brian could shoulder the stress of his health, his business, and maintaining a façade of perfection to the world. It must be exhausting.

*  * *

Brian gave himself over to Justin’s care. He’d started the demand of a sponge bath as more of a dare, more of a game, to see how far Justin would go. He knew the younger man was attracted to him, and loath as he was to admit it, that was one of the main reasons Brian had agreed to keep him on for a few days. He wanted someone to look at him with something other than pity and concern; look at him like a man; make him feel like he _was_ a man still.

He’d suffered a lot of indignities in his life, much at the hands of his father and horrible mother, but he’d been able to retreat inside himself until he could escape to Mikey’s house. He had never been ashamed of his body, of his sexuality, even at the worst of his father’s assaults, because he knew how others reacted to him, desired him, admired him. But this cancer—it was eating him from the inside. His own body betraying him. The one thing he relied on to make people…want him. Not love him, he didn’t need fucking love, but he did need…validation. Validation that at least some part of him was worth something, even if it was just his body that most people wanted.

And now his body was diseased. But as he felt Justin’s hands knead his feet, smooth down his body, he knew the kid wasn’t the least built repulsed. No, quite the opposite. Thank god.

Feeling Justin nudge him over, Brian turned, feeling his muscles turn to jello, allowing his body to surrender to the exhaustion of radiation. Justin stoked his arms and pecs and taunt stomach with the warm washcloth, and decided maybe this caregiver thing wasn’t total bullshit. When Justin reached the waistband of Brian’s briefs, they both held their breath. Brian willed him away, because if Justin made any move, he’d kick the kid out of bed. No one was to see his scar. No one. Even he could hardly look. It needed to heal more. The doctor swore it wouldn’t be too noticeable, but Brian didn’t believe it. Still, now, it was much too raw and red still. A glaring imperfection.

Thankfully, Justin moved onto his legs, massaging his thighs, his strong calves, and Brian let out a small moan of contentment. He heard Justin gasp at the sound, knew the college kid was holding back his arousal. He could almost feel Justin’s desperation. But then Justin pulled back and hurried away to the kitchen.

Brian heard his feet slap against the hardwood as he hurried away. Brian opened his eyes, disappointed at the sudden loss. “That’s it?”

To his surprise, Justin hurried back up to the platform, this time holding a bottle of lotion in his hands. Brian’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t even think about it,” Brian warned.

Justin licked his lips, nervous. “Um, you really should use it…on the sore tissue…it’ll calm the, er, area.”

Brian knew what Justin was getting at. He likened radiation to getting a really bad sunburn, and he knew his aching groin needed the relief of this prescription lotion. But the thought of Justin touching him there was out of the question.

“I’ll just leave it here,” Justin said, placing it at the edge of the bed and then making a quick retreat.

Brian watched as Justin banged around in the kitchen, making it obvious that he wasn’t looking. Brian looked down at the prescription lotion. He’d actually forgotten about it. With all the medical jargon they’d thrown at him, it was a wonder he even fucking remember when to show up so they could fry his remaining ball off. He quickly slid under the cool sheet and made use of the lotion, feeling some actual relief for a change. His finger traced his scar and he shivered. He couldn’t get the images of his surgery out of his mind, of them removing his diseased ball. It was too overwhelming…and he’d be damned if anyone saw that vulnerability in him.

By the time, Justin had returned with soup in a giant mug, Brian had carefully veiled all his emotions once more. He took a sip of the soup, then motioned to the couch. “I don’t need you anymore tonight.”

“Are you sure?” Justin asked.

Brian quirked an ironic eyebrow, “Sleep on the couch. Got it? The only men I let into this bed are ones I’m in the process of fucking. Understand?”

Justin nodded, feeling the flush of embarrassment. “Sorry, I was just worried about leaving you last night. You were in a lot of pain.”

 “I’m fine now,” Brian snapped. He could see the look in Justin’s eyes. Not pity exactly, but maybe, caring? God, he did not need this kid having a crush him. He didn’t. He really, really didn’t. So why the fuck was his heart speeding up a little at the thought?

Justin forced a smile and headed off. “Okay, just let me know if you need anything.”

Brian watched Justin traipse over to the sofa. He saw the dejected slump to his shoulders, knew the kid had hated being dismissed. He grabbed the soup, spilling some of the hot liquid on himself, cursing, and then couldn’t help looking towards Justin once more. Justin bent over the sofa, spreading out a blanket, his perfect ass in the air. An ass that Brian was literally not up to pummeling into blissful oblivion. Fuck, fate had a sick sense of humor.


	4. Morning Shower

** Chapter Four **

It was Wednesday and Justin was at his and Daphne’s apartment working on one of his projects, his laundry churning in the machines downstairs. Brian had been gone when Justin awoke this morning on the couch, and he’d felt guilty for being utterly useless this morning as a caregiver. Nevermind that Brian had banned him to the couch. Per their agreement, today was technically Justin’s last day, but he doubted the man would really fire him. Sure, he’d been caustic last night, seemingly annoyed at everything Justin did, but he felt like he’d also made progress. Brian might not want to admit he needed help, but the man clearly did.

Justin’s cell phone rang and picked up the number he didn’t recognize.

“Justin Taylor,” he answered professionally.

“Yes, a Mr. Brian Kinney had us call you. We had to up his radiation this morning, and the effects are more severe today. We believe it may be a reaction to one of his medications, but we can’t release him from the hospital to a taxi service. We need someone to sign for his care.”

“I’ll be right there,” Justin said, already grabbing his keys and shoving on his shoes.

Justin arrived at the hospital a short while later – he’d splurged on a taxi because he hadn’t been able to reach Daphne to borrow her car. When he arrived, Brian was fully clothed, slumped in the corner of the recovery room. He was clearly pissed they hadn’t let him leave.

Justin immediately went to the nurses’ desk and started to sign the release forms. “What time is his radiation tomorrow?”

The nurse looked at Brian’s chart. “He asked that it be later in the morning tomorrow. 11am.”

Justin nodded, relatively acquainted with radiation protocol. “What happened today?”

“We took new scans, readjusted the radiation, had to widen its target a bit. We think that coupled with one of his meds made him lightheaded.”

“But is—is he okay? Do they think they’ll get all the cancer?” Justin couldn’t help how concerned he sounded, and the nurse gave him a kind smile.

She patted his hand. “His prognosis is still very good.”

Justin nodded, relieved, and then turned to his annoyed patient. Justin put on a no-nonsense expression, making sure he was totally devoid of pity. He hauled Brian up by the arm and then let Brian shake him off, as if he didn’t need the help. Justin started walking out of the office.

“You need to use a wheelchair,” the nurse called out to Justin. But he took one look at Brian’s face and knew there was no way in hell that was going to happen. This proud man was not being wheeled out.

“I’ve got him,” Justin called back, using his big, bright, innocent smile – as he’d done with women his whole life – to get his way and then led Brian out of the hospital.

By the time they got to Brian’s loft, he was leaning heavily on Justin. Gone were his caustic remarks, his insults, his innuendos – and Justin was very, very worried. Today had been bad, real bad, on Brian’s body. The man didn’t even fuss when Justin set him down in bed.

“I’ll get you some water. Coconut water, it has electrolytes, which are really key for staving off dehydration—“

Brian caught his arm, “What are you? A fucking PSA?” Justin shut up instantly, not sure why he was babbling, but Brian had already moved on. “I need you to go to my office, get me the Leo Brown file, the boards,” Brian rasped out.

“Don’t worry about work,” Justin urged.

But Brian’s eyes turned to hard steel. “Do as I say. The presentation is tomorrow morning.”

“Okay, I understand. But—but can’t you reschedule?”

“I already have once. If I do it again, they’ll know there’s a problem. I can’t afford to lose them as a client. Fuck, I can’t afford any of my clients finding out about this,” Brian said, falling back into bed. 

“I’ll go them right now,” Justin said. “You’ll be okay? Without me?”

“Don’t be a twat. Go.”

Justin nodded and headed out. He arrived at the former bathhouse and saw Brian’s assistant. She hurried over to him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing. He just needs the materials for his pitch tomorrow.”

The blonde nodded, “Let me call Ted. He’s been working on it.

A few moments later a man who looked exactly the way an accountant should approached him with a smile and handshake.

“You must be Justin,” Ted said. “Right this way.”

Justin was surprised that this mild-mannered man was the one who’d dared to go behind Brian’s back to get him a nursemaid.

“So you’re Ted? Who hired me?” Justin wanted to make sure.

“Yeah,” Ted led him into Brian’s office, gathering materials. “Brian would never admit we’re friends, and god knows, I never thought I’d ever consider him one. I’m not really who you think would hang out with the Stud of Liberty Avenue, but Brian’s not… nice. Never nice. But he’s loyal and brilliant and a sharpshooter and, well, we sort of have this makeshift family.”

“That’s good. Real good,” Justin said sincerely, glad to know Brian had folks looking out for him. “Does everyone else know…in the family?”

Ted sadly shook his head. “Brian’s also an arrogant, independent fuck. He hates weakness. He always said he’d die young and beautiful. I kinda worried for a minute he’d take this as his out. But he has Gus and Lindsay and Mikey.”

Justin gave him a questioning look and Ted, explained, “His son, his son’s lesbian mother, and his best friend. We’re a rather unconventional family,” Ted added with a laugh. Justin decided he wouldn’t mind an unconventional family. He certainly didn’t have a traditional one anymore.

By the time, Justin returned from Kinnetik, Brian had barred himself in the bathroom to puke his brains out. Justin knew not to intrude this time. So he started laying out the files and concept boards on the bed, then retrieved Brian’s laptop and set up the power cord. Finally, he made some mild herbal tea and set it on Brian’s nightstand.

Then he waited. Forty minutes later, Brian emerged. He crawled into the bed and pulled the files towards him.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Sure,” Justin answered. Then he went back to his own studies, not sure what else to do. Twenty minutes later, he heard Brian curse and throw the concept boards across the room.

Justin scrambled over to the platform, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s crap, total shit.”

Justin picked up the concept art, looked it over. It was pretty…generic.

“You should fire your artistic director,” Justin said.

“I can’t. He’s stuck in Chicago in a snowstorm, and I’m the fucking reason he’s there. My assistant art director is at her goddamn wedding, and her two underlings apparently just _had_ to be there for her big day.”

“Jesus, so who’s running your art department?”

“Idiots, apparently.”

“Can I help?” Justin offered.

Brian reached for a joint on the table. Justin smiled. Apparently, the medicinal marijuana had been a good idea.

“I don’t know. Do you have any fucking talent?” Brian countered.

Justin shrugged, “I am a student at PIFA. It’s not exactly an easy school to get into. Tell me what you want.”

Brian appraised him for long moments, apparently deciding to ignore the obvious naughty innuendos, and motioned him over. Justin was surprised he was being invited onto the very bed he’d been banned from the night before, but he wasn’t going to point that out.

Brian took out his pitch document. “Alright, it’s an ad campaign for women’s sneakers. Not pansy ass shit, but for real athletes. We’re appealing to modern, ambitious women – women who juggle kids and husbands and six-figure salaries and just want to run. No bullshit.”

Justin nodded. “Okay, what did you have in mind?”

As Brian started to explain his ideas, Justin began to sketch. Occasionally, Brian would leave over and stare at his drawing for long moments, then make an adjustment. After about two hours, Brian finally grunted, satisfied at Justin’s current sketch.

“Now, how are you at graphic design?”

Justin smiled, “Great. I may want to work in animation, so I’ve learned all the latest software.”

“Yippee for me,” Brian said, and then he nudged his laptop over to Justin. “Go to it. Or use my desktop if you need to.”

Justin smiled, excited. Brian’s agency was well-known at his school; it was one of the top places PIFA students hoped to intern at. And here he was working on an actual project. It’s funny, he hadn’t really thought of Brian as the CEO of Kinnetik before now. He hadn’t wanted to seem like he was taking advantage of his job.

“Justin,” Brian called out. Justin whirled back around. “You’ll be compensated for this. All you do tonight on the Brown pitch, I mean. Just tell Ted you’re hourly rate.”

Justin didn’t want to admit he didn’t have an hourly rate, so he just smiled and nodded. Settling down to work, the hours passed without Justin really noticing, so intent was he on his project. They were pitching the concept for a major photo shoot for all their print ads. Justin was just doing mock-ups, but he knew they had to be great. Every now and again, Brian would demand that he bring over his work for review. At 3am, Brian finally seemed satisfied. As he collapsed on the bed, Justin wondered how the man had lasted so long. Stubborn, determined, fearless – that’s how.

And as Brian drifted off to sleep, Justin could have sworn he heard, “Thank you.”

*  * *

Brian’s alarm clock jolted them both awake in the morning. Justin immediately started a pot of coffee while Brian began to get ready for work. When Justin entered the bathroom a few moments later with the coffee, Brian cringed. He knew he looked like shit. He was braced against the vanity, shaving cream on half his face, his skin pale, his body exhausted.

Justin set down the coffee and took Brian’s face in his hands. Without a word, he lathered shaving cream on the other side and then picked up Brian’s razor. He stepped close, trying not to look at Brian’s naked chest, and started to shave the brunette with smooth strokes. “I mounted all the concept boards. They’re also on your laptop in the file Brown Athletics. I printed out your pitch and it’s in the side pocket of your briefcase.”

Brian didn’t respond, just watched Justin, wondering how the hell they’d gotten here. And why he didn’t push the fucking kid away? But he was tired, bone tired, and although he’d never admit it out loud, he actually needed help this morning. He needed to look his best when he faced his client. So Brian closed his eyes and let Justin shave him, convincing himself he was just getting a fancy close shave at a barber. The best money could buy.

When Justin wiped his face clean and then started the shower, Brian still didn’t move. Not until he heard the rustle of clothing did he pop open an eye. And then he had to stifle a gasp. Justin was lifting off his shirt and shrugging out of the sweatpants that he’d apparently slept in. Leaving the blonde in only tight, black briefs that cupped his package so tightly it left little to the imagination. How the hell was a twink fucking hung? Brian knew he was in deep shit. He may not like an ass up him often, but he was still a size whore. And he had a feeling Justin’s cock would be as perfect as his ass.

“What are you doing?” Brian managed to ask, suddenly feeling out of his element for the first time in…forever.

“Showering. With you.”

Brian had not been expected that answer. So he didn’t protest when Justin grabbed his hand and led him over to the shower. But when Justin hooked his thumbs in Brian’s briefs, Brian stopped him immediately. “No.”

Justin accepted this with a nod and dragged them both into the shower, underwear still on. “Is this some kink?” Brian snarked. “Showering with clothes?”

Justin smiled, “I’m not getting naked if you’re not.”

Brian gave a small laugh and then leaned back against the wall enclosure, because, honestly, he didn’t really have a choice. The steam was making him light-headed. Justin cooled it down a notch and then stepped out of the shower.

“Where are you going?” Brian asked, thinking this was just getting good. He was actually enjoying his morning shower for the first time in weeks.

“I’ll be right back.” Justin returned a moment later with a small wooden stool that Brian used to reach the high light fixtures of his loft.  Justin set it under the water’s spray. Brian cocked an eyebrow, but Justin just shrugged. “What? You’re tall. I can’t wash your hair if you’re standing.”

They both knew it was a lie. They both knew Justin was worried Brian couldn’t stand on his own two feet any longer. But they both gave into the lie. Brian sat down and Justin started to lather up his hair with the expensive shit he imported from France. Brian almost didn’t care that he was sitting on a fucking stool because it felt so damn good, Justin’s hands massaging his scalp, working in the suds, and then gently rinsing his hair. When Justin started washing his back in slow, firm circles…shit. Brian closed his eyes and let himself groan just a little.

By the time, Justin moved to the front of him, Brian was starting to feel slightly normal. As in not a cancer patient with a diseased body. He almost felt…healthy. Justin squatted down to soap up Brian’s chest and legs, carefully avoiding his sodden underwear. Brian watched him, mesmerized by the long, artistic fingers soaping his thighs, his calves, and his feet. He watched as Justin rinsed away the soap, but then hesitated to stand up again.

“What?” Brian asked.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, eyes averted, hiding something… And Brian realized Justin was sporting a rather impressive morning hard-on. Apparently, the shower was invigorating to Justin as well. Brian watched as a blush spread over the kid’s cheeks. Fuck, that was hot.

“Don’t say anything,” Justin pleaded.

And for once, Brian decided to do as he was told. He reached up for the shampoo, poured some into his hand, and then sank his fingers into the boy’s long blonde locks. He heard Justin groan as he ran his fingers against his scalp, his fingers enjoying the silky blonde hair he’d been staring at for days.

“Feel good?”

“Hmm-mmm,” Justin moaned, leaning into Brian’s hands.

After long moments, Brian finally commanded, “Okay, stand up and rinse it out.”

Justin, lulled into a pleasure induced haze, forgot about his embarrassment as he stood up, giving Brian exactly what he wanted.

Brian instantly slid Justin’s briefs down his fucking perfect ass and thighs.

“Fuck! Brian!?” Justin gasped. “You shouldn’t—I shouldn’t—” But before he could say more, Brian’s soapy hand wrapped around his erection and slowly started pumping. “Oh fuuuck,” Justin moaned, his head falling back against the glass.

Brian knew Justin was too lost in arousal to stop now, so he took his time, slowly stroking the gorgeous cock in front of him, his other hand cupping Justin’s full, heavy balls, then gently pulling them one by one. He moved his fingers slowly, so slowly, behind Justin’s balls and then to his tight pink hole and thrust a wet finger inside. “What the--?” Justin’s outburst dissolved into a whimper of pleasure when Brian stroked his prostate. “Ohgodohgod please, please.”

Smiling at Justin’s begging, Brian starting to fist Justin’s cock with a vengeance as he teased the boy with a gentle thrusting finger, tapping his prostate over and over again, showing him the pleasures that could be had from bottoming. Jesus, his other lovers must have been incredibly inept. Maybe that was a good thing, because Justin felt so fucking tight. He’d be amazing to sink into. God, Brian wanted that so fucking much.

“Oh shit,” Justin moaned, thrusting his cock faster and faster in Brian’s hands, then going up on tip toes when Brian gave a firm twist at the swollen head on each stroke and hit his prostate again and again. “Oh god…oh Jesus…oh…Brian—“ and the hot spurt of Justin’s release hit Brian in the chest as he kept milking his pretty boy for all he was worth, watching the orgasm tremble through Justin’s body for long seconds.

Justin was breathing heavily, trying to restore his sanity, looking down at Brian with an expression that made it clear he’d just had one of the best orgasms of his life. And from a fucking hand job.

Brian smiled with satisfaction. He pushed himself to his feet, needing to feel like the predator he was, and trapped Justin between his arms. Then he leaned in towards the blonde. Justin watched him coming with eager anticipation until Brian finally captured his lips in a hard, crushing kiss. Brian ravaged his mouth, biting and nipping. He loved the way Justin tasted, loved the slide of his tongue, the way his hands clutched at Brian’s hair, afraid he’d pull away. But instead, Brian leaned closer, pressing his entire length against Justin’s body. He kissed him senseless, until he felt the kid’s hands gliding down his body, aiming to push off his briefs, to finally see all of Brian, naked, bare.

But Brian jerked back, stopping Justin immediately. “No,” he snarled.

And Justin’s eyes snapped open, reality crashing down. “Fuck, I’m sorry—“

“Get out,” Brian snapped.

“Brian, I—“

“I said GET OUT!” and Brian gave him a hefty push outside the shower.

Justin stumbled out, barely grabbing a towel, before he retreated into the bedroom. Brian watched him go, disgusted at himself, furious at Justin, and downright pissed off at cancer.


	5. Babylon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudus and comments much appreciated. They give me self-worth...

** Chapter Five **

Justin was in studio class Friday morning when his boss called. “Mr. Taylor, Mr. Kinney called us this morning, thanking you for your services, but they’ll no longer be required.”

Justin almost dropped his brush in shock. After everything that had happened the night before, helping Brian with the campaign, he couldn’t believe the man was firing him. What the hell? He thought they’d made real progress…almost become friends. But Justin knew he was fooling himself. The night may have gone well – the work they’d done for Brown Athletics spectacular – but the morning, everything had changed.

Brian had let his guard down, or more like, Justin had forced his guard down. And now they couldn’t go back from what had happened in the shower—Justin groaned at the memory. Jesus. That hand job had been the most erotic things up to this point in his sex life. Nothing, not any of the fucks or sucks before, had even come close. He couldn’t imagine not feeling that again.

But he knew Brian, who hadn’t been able to get a hard-on, would probably view the entire morning differently. It hadn’t been earth-shatteringly amazing. Instead, it had been an insult to his masculinity. A failure. And Brian Kinney’s whole reputation was sex. So without it…

Justin silently cursed. Didn’t the man understand he had fucking cancer? This wasn’t some random malfunction. This was his body fighting against a disease. It wasn’t his fault. It was normal. Totally normal. But Justin knew that Brian Kinney hated normal…and certainly any weakness he perceived in himself.

Without letting himself chicken out, Justin quickly called Kinnetik. “Can I speak to Ted Schmidt? This is Justin Taylor.”

A moment later, Ted picked up. “Justin, hi.”

“He fired me,” Justin said without preamble.

“I know. I’m sorry. You saved our ass on the presentation – which was a huge success – and did more for him than any of the others. Really. But…Brian is Brian.”

“Yeah,” was all Justin could think to say.  There was a long moment of silence.

And then Ted hesitantly offered, “They canceled his radiation today. Felt his body needed an extra day to recovery. So we’re all going out to Woody’s on Saturday. He thinks he’ll be up to it. His other friends don’t know why he’s been absent so much though, so he figures this will get them off his back.”

“Okay,” Justin said, unclear where this was going.

“You could stop by…” Ted added. And Justin couldn’t stifle the small flare of hope he felt in this chest.

“Yeah, yeah, I will. Thanks.” Justin hung up and sat back down at his easel. He looked at the painting he’d been working on, and it suddenly seemed so boring. He set the canvas aside and started anew. In this one, water sluiced over a magnificent body, a strong body, if one looked hard. After hours of work, Justin stared at the piece, knowing it was one of the best things he’d ever done.

*  *  *

Brian stood at the diner counter, buying lemon squares. He figured, fuck the sugar, he deserved them. But he was more than a little sad when Deb didn’t tease him about it. She was still upset about what he’d said on the night of Vic’s death. And he knew he deserved it. But he hadn’t been in his right mind. The night before a new trick at Babylon had blown him – a doctor apparently – and he’d told Brian that there was a lump on his testicle. Brian actually _had_ been envious Vic had gotten the extra time, a few more years with his family and friends. He, Brian Kinney, who thought he wanted to die young until he’d had a son and found himself wanting to live for more than himself…for the possibility that something _more_ was out there waiting for him.

Wanting to make things right, Brian followed Deb outside when her shift ended. “Let me walk you home.”

“Been doing it fine on my own for years,” she said, dismissing him.

But he kept walking beside her anyway. He didn’t want to admit it, but having Justin around for a few days and then suddenly gone, had made him almost lonely. He missed his friends. He missed Deb. So what the hell, maybe all apologies weren’t bullshit. “I’m sorry for what I said about Vic. I was out of line.”

Deb snapped her head up, equally surprised at the great Brian Kinney saying he was sorry. “Yes, you were,” she said, but then softening a bit, she added: “But you weren’t wrong. He was lucky.”

“I guess—I was just—well, I’d just found out I had cancer, so I wasn’t in the best shape that night.” Deb almost stumbled in her shock at hearing Brian’s words.

“What did you just say?” she asked. 

“Don’t make me repeat it.”

“I just want to make sure I heard you correctly,” she whispered.

He nodded, “You heard me.”

She nodded. And he knew from the look in her eyes that he was forgiven, and he needed it more than he realized. Deb was his mother far more than his biological one, and as she bundled him up and wrapped him in her arms, he started to feel less alone. Less…doomed.

“Mikey doesn’t know,” he whispered into her rainbow scarf. “I’m not ready to tell him. Only you, Cynthia, and Ted know.” She nodded her head, accepting this, and gave him a big kiss on his cheek.

“We’re gonna fight this sweetie,” she assured him. “Now how many lemon bars you got? You need more?” And she fussed at him all the way home.

*  *  *

Brian leaned against the bar at Woody’s, sipping a beer, hearing Mikey lament about Captain Astro’s death once more. Apparently, he’d found one of his favorite issues on eBay and was now upset all over again. Jesus, his best friend was a comic book geek. Of course, he’d helped him buy the comic book store so he wasn’t completely blameless in Mikey’s obsession.

“Mikey, you’re pathetic. You’ve been grieving for years. Stop whining about it and do something,” Brian snapped, secretly enjoying Mikey’s woes. He’d missed this.

“Do what, you asshole? Give him a fucking eulogy,” Mikey replied, sullenly taking a sip of his beer. His boyfriend, Ben, patted him on the back, while Brian could see Emmett literally planning a Captain Astro wake in his mind.

 “Fuck no. Emmett here’s already draping your apartment with black velvet and a casket with a card board cut-out.”

Emmett looked up defensively, “What? It would be tasteful!”

Brian snorted and suggested instead, “Mikey, why don’t you create your own gay superhero?”

Ben’s eyes lit up, wondering if this might actually snap his boyfriend out of his gloom, “That’s a great idea!”

Emmett clapped in glee, “Oh I love men in spandex.”

“I could write up a business plan,” Ted offered.

“Yeah, right, guys,” Mikey snapped. “Just one minor detail: I can’t draw for shit.”

“I can,” someone offered to the left of them.

Brian felt his heart lurch at the familiar voice. Jesus Christ, he was a fucking lesbian. Even so, he had to make sure that his little stalker had followed him all the way to Woody’s…even after getting him off in the shower and then unceremoniously kicking him out…even after firing him.

Masking his emotions, Brian looked up to stare at the beautiful twink leaning against the bar next to him. Justin was wearing tight jeans that cupped his perfect bubble-butt and a blue sweater that matched his fucking amazing eyes with a leather jacket over it, making him look just a bit older, a bit more of a man. Brian felt his dick rise at the sight, but kept his tone neutral, despite the relief that he was finally sporting some actual wood at Woody’s.

“Justin, fancy meeting you here.”

“It’s a gay bar, isn’t it?” Justin smirked back. “This is my friend, Daphne.”

When Brian just quirked a brow, unimpressed, Emmett leaned over, giving the blonde stranger an appreciative one-over. “Well, hello there, cutie,” he drawled, then he winked at Daphne. “You too, sweetie. I’m Emmett.”

Mikey, however, was far less welcoming. He glared at Justin, hating him on sight. “Brian doesn’t do repeats, so fuck off,” he snapped, thinking Justin was one of Brian’s past tricks.

Ted jumped to his feet, intervening, and Brian knew by the look in his eyes that he was the one who’d invited Justin. “Uh, everyone, this is Justin Taylor,” Ted introduced. “He’s an…art intern at Kinnnetik.”

“Oh,” Mikey said, looking a bit apologetic. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem,” Justin assured with a smile. “So you’re starting up a comic book?”

“Oh, uh, maybe. It’s just an idea,” Mikey stammered.

“If you were drawing it, honey,” Emmett crooned to Justin, “I’d buy it.”

“Wipe your drool, Honeycutt, the kids not even legal,” Brain snapped.

“Oh, my, my, the overprotective boss,” Emmett said with a laugh, enjoying Brian’s displeasure.

Justin looked between them and then smiled, “I’m legal enough. And my fake ID is very convincing.”

“Well, let’s put it to use then,” Ted said, ushering Daphne and Justin towards the bartender at the far end of the bar.

*  *  * 

Justin dutifully followed Ted, trying not to stare at Brian as he passed. But damn, he’d felt a thrill of excitement when Emmett had implied Brian might be jealous. God, he hoped so. Just seeing Brian again was causing a whole slew of dirty thoughts.

When they were far enough away from the group, Ted whispered, “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

“What? No, _that’s_ Brian being nice to me,” Justin assured.

“Oh, all right, then,” Ted said with a lame smile.

“He seems to be doing okay,” Justin added as they signaled for three beers from the bartender.

“Better than okay. I can’t believe he has cancer,” Daphne replied, giving an appreciative leer over to the man in question.

“You told her?” Ted snapped.

“I didn’t have to. She knew about my new patient before I ever met him, before I even knew his real name,” Justin defended.

“Besides, I won’t tell anyone,” Daphne promised.

Ted nodded his acceptance of this, and then leaned in to confide, “Actually, Brian’s in the best mood I’ve seen him in since he was diagnosed. Which is surprising considering his mother came to the office today.”

“His mom?” Justin couldn’t hide his curiosity. Brian had never mentioned his family before.

“The cold and frigid Joan Kinney,” Ted explained. “She hates fags. She actually told Brian he’d gotten cancer as a punishment from God today.”

“Shit, seriously?” Justin felt his stomach sink. How could a mother say that to her son? Then Justin thought of his own father and decided it was certainly possible.

“That’s sick,” Daphne added. “Talk about a shitty mom.”

Ted nodded. “Let’s just say Brian had a terrible childhood. It’s a wonder he’s turned out this normal. But then again, I think his rotten family fuels his ambitions. A big fuck you to all of them. They kick him, and he just gets back up, stronger.”

Justin looked over at Brian who was laughing at something Mikey said. Genuinely laughing. Despite his mother’s visit, Brian seemed almost happy.

“Come on,” Ted said as their beers arrived, adding them to his tab. “Let’s get back before he knows we’re talking about him.” Justin and Daphne grabbed their drinks and headed back to the group.

“So, Justin, you’re an artist?” Emmett asked, sipping his cocktail.

Justin nodded, “I’m a student at PIFA. We’re all required to do internships. I was lucky enough to get hired by Brian, um, Kinnetik.”

“All based on your talent alone, I’m sure,” Mikey said with a snide smile, the innuendo obvious.

Justin decided Mikey had some jealousy issues of his own about Brian Kinney. But he could handle that. He’d be jealous of Brian’s attention too.

“I’m not bad,” Justin said with a shrug, grabbing a bar napkin and a pen out of his jacket pocket. “For instance, if you were looking for a queer superhero…” he started drawing rapidly and a minute later, he passed a basic but impressive sketch over to Mikey.

Mikey’s eyes, widened, excited, impressed. His whole attitude changed. “Wow, this is great, really.”

“Thanks,” Justin said as he took a long swig of his beer.

“Maybe we could meet, bounce ideas off each other,” Mikey suggested. “I own a comic book store, the Red Cape. You could come by one day after school?”

Justin nodded, “Sounds good.”

Brian suddenly stood up, apparently not thrilled that Justin had just ingratiated himself with one of his friends. “Let’s go to Babylon,” Brian bit out.

Emmett, Mikey, and Ted all stood up. Justin hesitated, not sure if they were invited, and Daphne carefully waited to take her cue from him.

Shrugging on his coat, Brian gave Justin a small glance, “You coming?’

Justin fought back the ecstatic smile about to take over his face and gave a casual nod, “Sure.” It took everything he had not to do a little happy dance.

Daphne, sensing she would just be a third wheel, gave a smile to everyone and said, “I can’t, but have fun everyone!” She shrugged on her coat and leaned into Justin, “Call me and tell me everything.”

Justin nodded, and they parted ways at the door, all the guys waiting until she safely got into her car at the end of the block. Then they headed to Babylon.

Reaching the club, Justin started to step into line and then realized none of the other were stopping. Oh right, Brian Kinney had a front of the line pass. So feeling like royalty, he sauntered into the club with the rest of them. Justin checked his stuff at coat check, pulling off his tight blue sweater to reveal an even tighter sleeveless white shirt beneath. He could feel Brian’s eyes on him, so he made sure to lean over the coat counter as far as he could, letting his stomach peek out just a bit. He’d actually started going to the gym, and he could tell Brian enjoyed the ripple of his abs as he tensed them. But as soon as Justin turned to look at Brian, he was looking elsewhere. The master of not caring, not giving a shit.

At the bar, Brian bought his friends drinks without asking what they wanted. Apparently, Justin realized he already knew, and they seemed happy to let him handle it. Brian glanced over at him but decided to order without asking. “Tequila for the kid. None of that well crap, top shelf only.”

Justin smiled; he really did love tequila. It almost never gave him a hangover, and apparently, he was worth the top shelf liquor. He decided that in the world of Brian Kinney that was probably one hell of a romantic gesture. Brian passed out the drinks, just getting a beer for himself. Justin hesitated a moment, then licked his wrist for the salt and tossed back the shot. He dared to meet Brian’s eyes as he sucked the lime between his teeth.

Brian smirked back. Justin felt himself growing heated, and looked away, trying to calm his overly eager erection. Jesus, despite the fact Brian kept calling me a kid, he wasn’t actually a teenager anymore. He should have more control.

Emmett sipped his cosmo, or whatever the fruity drink he had was, and then pulled out a little baggie. “Look what I have.”

Mikey grinned, “Fuck, you always get the good stuff.”

Emmett gave him an eye-roll and sassed, “Like I’m into doing anything shitty.”

“As a nelly bottom, you would know,” Brian tossed out with a smirk, but Emmett seemed used to it and just gave Brian a backwards slap.

Ted and Ben didn’t reach for the drugs, and no one seemed to expect them to partake. But Mikey pulled out a tab for him and Brian.

Brian held up his hand, “No, thanks.”

“What?” Mikey asked, surprised.

“I have to catch up on work tomorrow.”

Emmett and Mikey started at him in disbelief. Ted looked away, not sure how to intervene.

And unfortunately, Justin realized Mikey wasn’t taking no for an answer. “Come on, since when has that every stopped you? When has Brian Kinney ever turned down E?” and Mikey plopped the tab on this tongue, leaning into Brian. Emmett howled with glee at the offer while Ted and Justin exchanged glances. They both knew Brian wouldn’t back down; he was all about maintaining his reputation.

So there was nothing either of them could do as Brian leaned and kissed Mikey, scooping the tab into his own mouth. Or was there something Justin could do?

Without thinking, Justin leaned into Brian, “Mind if I share?” And then he dove for Brian’s lips, his tongue sweeping inside Brian’s mouth, taking the entire tab into his own mouth. He pulled back, letting the drug dissolve on his tongue, as Brian stared at him, quickly covering his surprise.

Emmett clapped at Justin’s boldness, “Oh, I like this one. Here, honey, give him one back.” Emmett plopped another tab in Justin’s hand while Mikey glared him. Apparently, Brian’s best friend really didn’t like sharing. Of course, if he really was Brian’s intern, then this was highly inappropriate. But he wasn’t Brian’s intern; he was his caregiver, nurse, his whatever-the-fuck, and doing a hit of E was definitely against doctor’s orders.

Justin stared at the tab, knowing two hits of E would do him in for the night, take him to a peak he’d never felt before. But everyone was watching him with expectation. Especially Brian.

Making up Justin’s mind for him, Brian reached forward and curled his fingers around the nape of Justin’s neck, his fingers combing through his blonde, silky hair, pulling him close.

Justin tried not to groan as he placed the tab of E on his tongue, and then Brian leaned all the way in and kissed him once softly, gently, then went for the kill, his tongue invading Justin’s mouth, conquering it, twirling with his tongue, but purposefully leaving the E in Justin’s mouth. The kiss went on for long moments as everyone else in Babylon seemed to fade away until it was just him and Brian and the heat between them.

Eventually though, Brian pulled back, breathless, briefly leaning his forehead against Justin’s. “Thanks,” he said, and Justin knew he was thanking him for more than the kiss. For covering for him. Justin also realized the tab of E was no longer in his mouth.

Brian purposefully caught his eye and took a sip of beer, clearly spitting it into the bottle. Apparently, Brian had had a plan all along. But before Justin could feel any more embarrassed, Emmett was pulling him onto the dance floor, and Justin let himself be led into the gyrating mass. Brian didn’t follow much to Justin’s disappointment. But a few songs in and his body was buzzing, the music thumping through his veins as the drug took effect. Mikey came to join them, gyrating wildly.

*  * *

At the bar, Ted stood next to Brian, watching their friends dance. Watching them appreciate Justin’s carefree dancing along with the half the room. The blonde was amazing, swiveling his hips, lost in the music, a sight to behold.

“He’s hot,” Ted said.

Brian murmured his agreement. He couldn’t believe the kid had had the balls to show up at Woody’s. He knew Ted had something to do with that. He’d ream him out later. Not that Brian minded as much as he should. He’d felt himself go hard the moment the blonde had walked into the bar – thank you, Joan Kinney!

Apparently, forty-eight hours off from radiation and the anti-blessing of his mother was enough for God to restore his hard-on. And although he’d never admit it aloud, Justin was exactly who he’d wanted to share that with. The college student was beautiful, sexy – every guy in Babylon wanted him. But he was his tonight. Brian knew it. And soon Justin would too.

Brian knew this evening of returned virility would go away after the next round of radiation, so he decided not waste another moment. He left Theodore at the bar and waded into the sea of dancers. Coming up behind Justin, he skimmed his hands along Justin’s hips, touching the bare skin that was exposed with each lift of his arms. Justin immediately sensed it was Brian and leaned back against him, tilting his head to give him a welcoming smile. Clearly, the drugs were kicking in. He could almost feel Justin’s nerves tingling. And then the blonde started to grind his perfect ass into Brian’s groin, moving with the beat of the music, pumping his ass against Brian’s growing erection, and the stud of Liberty Avenue had to bite back a groan as a blonde twink almost made him come on the dance floor.

Justin heard his moan and started grinding his ass in tortuous circles. Brian felt the moment Justin realized he was pressing up against a very hard and very impressive cock. He snapped out of his drug-induced haze and quickly spun around in Brian’s arms, locking eyes with him.

“You’re—you have—“ Justin stuttered.

“Wow, you are really smart,” Brian mocked.

Justin ignored Brian’s sarcasm and slowly wrapped his arms around the older man’s neck, pressing his hard-on against Brian’s own cock. Brian’s eyelids drooped closed just a bit as they ground against each other for long moments, Brian combing his hands through Justin’s long hair, the entire dance floor riveted by these two gorgeous men.

Brian knew they were hot, knew they made an impressive pair as they danced together, moving in sync, their bodies trying to make contact everywhere. It felt so fucking good. Justin seemed to agree, letting his head fall back as Brian placed hot open-mouthed kisses along his neck. Fuck, the kid was hot. Brian licked his way up from Justin’s collarbone to the base of his ear, tasting the salty flesh, feeling the goose bumps break out on Justin’s skin. His control almost snapped. He’d been without sex for too long, far too long. Playtime was over.

He hooked his finger in Justin’s belt loop and started dragging him through the crowd, “Come on.”

“Are we going back to your place?” Justin asked, more than agreeable.

But Brian shook his head. “Too far.” Instead, he steered the young man towards the backroom. As they reached the entrance, he felt Justin slow. He turned back, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“I’ve never been in the backroom before.” And then he looked Brian in the eye, raising his chin. “And I don’t want us fucking back there for the first time.”

“Neither do I,” Brian assured, and he didn’t want to think too deeply on that. He fucked guys wherever, whenever he pleased, but this kid was an exception. He wanted to be able to take his time.

Brian leaned down to growl in Justin’s ear, “But you owe me for the shower.”

Justin couldn’t help but smile up at him, knowing that the E had lowered his inhibitions. “Really?”

Brian nodded, pulling him into the backroom. “Hmm-mmm.”

Justin followed Brian where he led and was immediately overcome by the musky smell and sounds of the infamous Babylon backroom. It was a den of sin, naked limbs fucking, sucking, rimming. But rather than being disgusted, Justin seemed even more turned on, the raw sexuality around him amping up his arousal, making him want to play. He grabbed Brian’s ass with both hands and squeezed. Brian tried not to smile. Clearly, Justin wanted to show everyone that Brian Kinney was his – at least for the night. And, for once, Brian didn’t really mind.

Brian led them to a free space on the wall, lit by blue lights, and slowly pulled Justin towards him, knowing that half the room had stopped to watch them. Watch the heat between the blonde and brunette.

Justin was finally seeing a very different side of Brian, one he’d only had glimpses of before. This with the stud of Liberty Avenue, the man who never fucked a trick twice no matter how much they wanted it. Who made grown men fall at his feet, desperate to please him. Who made men beg for his touch. Who was an addiction, a god among Pittsburgh’s gay community. And Brian could see Justin feeling the power, falling under his spell.

Brian pulled him in for a long, feral kiss, their tongues dueling for dominance.

Justin finally leaned back, gasping for air, “What the hell happened to you today?” Brian knew what he was really asking. What the hell had made cancer take a back seat to Brian Kinney’s fucking sexual dominance? Made him seem healthy and invincible?

Brian smirked, “Let’s just say, God gave me a second chance, and I don’t plan on blowing it. But you feel free too.”

Justin bit his lip, then slowly lowered Brian’s zipper. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, publicly. He cupped Brian’s bulge and squeezed through his briefs.

Brian groaned, running out of patience and reached down to pull out his cock, carefully leaving his balls (and all the evidence of his cancer) tucked inside his briefs. “Not that I don’t enjoy teasing, but you’re killing me, Justin. Give a man a break.”

Justin might have laughed if all his attention wasn’t on Brian’s cock. And from the look in his eyes, he definitely approved. Justin reached out and gripped it firmly, giving a few, long slow tugs. Brian moaned above him and threaded his fingers through Justin’s hair, urging him forward.

Justin licked the very tip of Brian’s cock, heard the man moan, and then deep throated him in one swift motion.

“Fuck!” Brian yelped, arching his back of the wall. He gripped Justin’s head with both his hands, his hips pumping forward. “Fuck. Can you take it?” Brian knew that any one less skilled might be gagging at this point.

But Justin looked up through his eyelashes and met Brian’s hard gaze, then hummed a yes. Brian smiled, tugging a bit roughly on Justin’s hair, and started fucking Justin’s mouth, his cock hitting the back of his throat. And the blonde took it like a fucking pro, one hand braced on Brian’s thigh, the other splayed on his stomach, nails digging into Brian’s flexing abs.

“Jesus, you’re gorgeous like this,” Brian moaned, and he felt his balls – well, his one good ball tighten up – and he knew he was close. So close. It had been far too long. One more thrust and his orgasm ripped through him, making his back arch even more, and Justin lapped up his come, sucking hard, letting Brian ride out his orgasm. Slowly, so slowly, Justin pulled back from Brian’s sensitive cock with a last lick to the tip before sliding up Brian’s body and yanking Brian down for a hard kiss. He could taste himself on Justin.

Justin pulled back first, looking at him with glazed eyes. “Let's get out of here.”

Brian smirked, hooked a finger through his belt loop, and led him out of the back room, noticing that almost everyone had been watching. They had certainly been the hottest show in a long, long while. He could have sworn he actually saw a few people applaud. And fuck, the kid deserved the praise. Apparently, he was mind-blowingly good at sucking cock. What else did he excel at?


	6. After Babylon

**Chapter Six**

The corvette was too small for the kind of sex Justin wanted, and apparently Brian felt the same way, because he got them back to the loft in almost no time at all. Brian had purposefully avoided Mikey and the gang on their way out. But he knew they’d been watching. Knew they’d seen Brian take him home. Well, fuck ‘em. Except Ted, they had no idea who Justin really was. He _wasn’t_ some intern fucking the boss. And Justin knew that even though Brian’s fuck buddies were limited right now, because of the scar, the surgery, he was still his first choice for the night. Hell, right now he felt like the only man in the world to Brian. The need poured off the older man, and Justin squirmed in his seat, needing release so fucking bad. God, Brian Kinney operating on full cylinders was a force to be reckoned with.

When they reached Tremont, Brian practically yanked Justin out of the passenger seat and up to the stairs. As he unlocked the loft door, Brian reached out and firmly grabbed Justin’s package. Justin hissed.

“So young, so eager,” he mocked as he yanked open the loft door.

“Says the man who just received a fucking amazing blowjob.”

“Who says it was amazing?” Brian countered, as he dragged them inside and locked the door.

Justin ripped open the snaps on Brian’s shirt, “The groans you were making—“ another snap “the moans” another snap “every fucking guy watching us.” He pushed the shirt off Brian’s shoulder and pressed his entire length against the older man. “How hard you came in my mouth…” Justin whispered the last in Brian’s ear before biting the lobe.

“Cocky little shit, aren’t you?” Brian pushed him back, yanked off Justin’s jacket, then his shirt, and he pinched Justin’s nipple hard as he kissed him, his tongue thrusting inside the boy’s mouth, claiming dominance. Brian backed them towards the raised bedroom, pulling Justin up the steps.

Reaching the top, Justin reluctantly ripped his mouth away from scorching kiss, knowing he needed to clarify the night for Brian. “You get that I’ve never bottomed, right?”

“You were serious?”

“Hmm-mmm,” Justin murmured with a smile, biting Brian’s chin in response. Jesus, he wanted to bite every inch of this man. He yanked open Brian’s jeans and shoved them to the ground. Then he slid up Brian’s body as he straightened, making sure to graze his hardening nipples along Brian’s muscled chest. Fuck, they were so sensitive.

He felt Brian grip his shoulder, pulling him up faster. “Rimming?” Brian asked.

“Given once, not received.”

“Jesus, who are these losers you go to school with?”

“Inexperienced…young…unlike you,” he said with an impertinent smirk.

Brian shoved him down on the bed, “You’re going to pay for that, twat.”

“Promise?” Justin asked with a hopeful expression. Brian couldn’t help but laugh as he sank his fingers into Justin’s hips and flipped him over onto his stomach, yanking down his jeans and briefs in one smooth stroke. Justin wiggled out of them the rest of the way as he crawled up the bed on his hands and knees. Suddenly, he felt a hard slap on his ass. He yelped at the pleasure/pain.

“That’s for the ‘old’ comment,” Brian replied.

Another slap on Justin’s other smooth ass cheek. He groaned, the sting of being spanked going straight to his leaking cock. “And that one?” he bit out.

“Your ass was begging for it.” Brian kneaded his fingers into the taut cheeks he’d been eyeing for days. “Your perfect…hot…ass.”

“What else is it begging for?” Justin rasped out, looking over his shoulder at Brian, bucking his hips up, offering everything.

Brian roughly pushed Justin’s forehead down onto the pillow, then spread open his thighs, settling between them. Justin could feel Brian staring at his ass blatantly on display for him, and he knew should’ve felt some embarrassment. But instead, Justin arched his back even more as he leaned forward on his forearms. He groaned when Brian took a luscious bite of one ass cheek, then the other, and Justin thought he might have whimpered. Brian moved up to place hot, wet kisses along his shoulder blades then bit the nape of Justin’s neck, sinking his teeth into the bundle of nerves there, and Justin moaned. Fuck, that wasn’t an erogenous zone he even knew he had. Then Brian started back down his spine, sliding his tongue lower and lower, further…further…

“Holy fucking shit,” Justin groaned as Brian’s expert tongue circled his puckered hole, the jolt of sensation making his toes curl. God, if this was rimming, why hell didn’t everyone do it?

“I’m going to make you come from my tongue alone,” Brian promised, and Justin knew he could. He was already so close already. “And then I’m going to fuck you so hard” he continued with another lick across Justin’s hole “and so long” another lick “that you’ll pass out.”

“God yes,” Justin murmured in agreement, wondering if he could die from pleasure. Fuck, is this what he’d been missing? Now he knew why he’d always felt a bit unsatisfied by his previous sexual encounters. Nothing compared to this, to Brian Kinney and his wicked tongue. And as if to prove this point, Brian suddenly thrust his tongue inside Justin’s tight hole.

“Oh FUCK,” Justin shouted. And he was so fucking lost to the sensation, sparks shooting through his body, his muscles tensing up.

“Relax,” Brian commanded, feeling resistance as his tongue tried to penetrate further. He ran his fingers softly along the back of Justin’s thighs, gentling him.

Justin relaxed the ring of muscle to allow Brian’s tongue access again, and then he felt wet heat slip inside. “Ohgodohgodohgod,” Justin panted, his hips pushing back to meet the thrust of Brian’s tongue.

“You like that, nasty boy?”

“Yes…yes,” he moaned, and Brian starting pumping in with quicker thrusts as Justin ground his erection against the bed, the friction so fucking good. Brian’s tongue was moving faster and faster, spit sliding down between Justin’s ass cheeks, tickling his sensitive flesh, coating his balls. He could feel them tightening up, so close, so fucking close…. He screamed into the pillow as his orgasm ripped through him, his fingers clenching the sheets, twisting, turning. Brian held down his hips, continue to tongue fuck his ass as Justin’s orgasm went on and on, his back arching. Finally, he flopped boneless onto the sheets once more.

*  *  *

Brian looked down at Justin’s pale perfect skin, glistening with sweat, his body still racked with tremors post-orgasm, and he decided it was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen. The kid didn’t hold back in bed. Thank god. He sank his hands into Justin’s hair – he fucking loved the feel of it – and twisted his head so that Brian could give him a long, wet kiss.

He knew Justin could taste himself on Brian’s tongue, and Brian grew even harder as the kid groaned in satisfaction. Fuck, he needed to be inside him now.  Brian grabbed the lube and slid a well-slicked finger into Justin’s tight ass. He slowly moved it in and out, knowing exactly where to touch.

“Oh fuck,” Justin groaned, his toes curling into the bed, as Brian hit his prostate just right. As the tingles racked through Justin’s body, Brian added a second finger and then started to piston them in and out with growing urgency. Justin gasped with each touch along his sensitive flesh, and Brian wondered if any of his previous lovers had ever successfully found his prostate, because the kid was clearly in heaven. He was made for fucking.

When Brian added a third finger, Justin was writhing. “Fuck me,” he gasped. “Fuck me hard.” Brian had never wanted to shove a dick up an ass so much in his life, and even though the kid was inexperienced with bottoming, he couldn’t wait any longer.

Brian flipped him over, slid on a condom, and then hooked Justin’s arms over his shoulders. He locked eyes with Justin as his cock teased the boy’s quivering hole then he leaned down to kiss him, the kiss going quickly from gentle to fierce.

Justin dug his fingers into Brian’s hair, ready for his first time bottoming, but also a bit scared. “Go slow, okay?” Brian leaned down to kiss him again, and Justin felt his entire body on fire, his hips straining up, begging for Brian to take him. He bit Brian’s neck, “But not too slow.” He bucked his hips, ringing a laugh from Brian.

Brian wanted so badly to push in, but the moment, the moment right before, was so damn hot. He looked into Justin’s blue eyes and found himself saying, “I want you to remember this. So that no matter who you’re with, I’ll always be there.” Maybe he wanted to stamp an imprint on Justin in case he didn’t make it through cancer, leave a lasting impression, a legacy if you will. It was actually the perfect legacy for Brian Kinney, stud of Liberty Avenue, a final fuck, a gorgeous virgin, initiated into the art of sex.

Brian leaned down, kissing Justin, and pushed in with a shallow smooth stroke. He felt the boy tighten around him, a small moan of pain, “Relax,” Brian soothed, and leaned down to ravage Justin’s mouth, making him forget the pain and push towards the pleasure. “God, you’re so fucking tight,” Brian groaned, desperately trying to hold back from slamming into the kid without mercy. He angled to hit Justin’s prostrate on the next thrust, and was rewarded when Justin groaned in appreciation and grabbed Brian’s ass and tried to pull him closer, his hips reaching up to meet Brian’s thrusts.

“Yeah, that’s it…right there…god yes,” Justin groaned as he writhed each time Brian hit his sweet spot, learning how much pleasure he could receive from bottoming. Brian pulled his shaggy blonde hair just hard enough to increase the pleasure as his thrusts went deeper and deeper until Justin was whimpering with need. “Harder,” Justin gasped, his hips rearing up to meet Brian’s thrusts. 

“You were made for fucking,” Brian gritted out, so turned on by the blonde writhing beneath him. Justin gave him a wicked smile and yanked Brian’s head down for a carnal kiss, his hips thrusting up, urging Brian deeper, harder. Brian reached down and started pumping Justin’s cock, felt him gasp and spasm underneath him, and then the boy was shooting his load. Hearing him come, Brian finally let himself lose control, slamming in once, twice, and then his own orgasm ripped through his body. It seemed to go on for forever until finally Brian collapsed on top of his blonde boy.

They laid there for a moment, gasping for breath, and then Brian pulled out, carefully turning away to remove the condom and then slipping on his briefs. He cursed silently for removing them fully in the first place. He didn’t want Justin to see his scar, didn’t want to him to see that there was only one remaining ball and a pathetic piece of plastic in the place of his missing one. But when Justin ran his hand down Brian’s spine, he allowed himself to turn back around and slide next to the blonde once more.

Brian hoped Justin wouldn’t ruin the moment by bringing up the cancer, or saying he wanted to see Brian without his briefs, that he wanted to see the scar. Brian shivered at the thought. But Justin seemed to read his mind and simply said instead, “That was fucking hot.”

Brian gave a grumble of a laugh, then inhaled sharply as Justin nibbled along his neck. “Let me know if I can return the favor,” Justin offered.

This time Brian snorted, “Not likely.” But Brian felt his dick twitch a bit at the thought of Justin topping him, which was a shock. Brian couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to be fucked. But his thoughts were slipping away from him, his mind shutting down. He was tired, so fucking tired. Whatever energy he’d gained from the small reprieve in radiation had sapped his strength. He was a bit surprised he’d even gotten it up. But there was something about Justin…he knew Brian had cancer, met him that way – diseased and weak – and the kid still found him hot. Seemed not to care. Seemed to…genuinely like him. It was the last thought Brian had before giving into exhaustion.

*  *  *

Justin watched Brian’s eyes drift shut and smiled, stroking his check gently, knowing a conscious Brian would never allow such tenderness. But the man who was revered on Liberty Avenue had let Justin see his vulnerable side, not willingly, but there’s no way to hide that when puking from cancer, and Justin wondered if anyone had really seen that deeply into the man before. Because if they had, everyone – every fucking queer in Pittsburgh – would have fallen in love with him. And Justin knew he was royally screwed. But that didn’t keep him from spooning Brian from behind, giving a long sigh of satisfaction, and drifting off to sleep.

*  *  *

Brian woke up slowly, feeling warmth behind him, and stretched his long lean legs, feeling rested for the first time in weeks. He looked down to see his fingers entwined with Justin’s and cursed. What the fuck? He was turning into a lesbian. This is what happens when a man only has one ball left. So he reverted to his safe zone and said what he always said in these moments.

“Who the fuck are you? What the fuck are you doing here?” Brian snapped. He jerked around to look at Justin, waiting for the boy’s temper to unleash, counting on it really.

But Justin’s just gave a sleepy smile and patted Brian’s chest. “I’m Justin. You’re Brian. You have cancer and a rather nasty mean streak.”

Brian bit back a laugh at the calmness of this statement. Fuck, the kid was kinda funny. Not to mention gorgeous in his sleep morning state. “Is that so?” Brian snarked, but he knew the bite was gone from his voice.

“Hmm-hmm,” Justin moaned. “But you know what’ll make you feel better?”

“What?” Brian couldn’t help but ask.

“Giving me a real slow blow-job and then breakfast at the diner.”

“Why the fuck am _I_ giving _you_ a blow-job?”

“Because it’s daylight,” Justin said matter-of-factly. “And you don’t want me to see your beautiful and very impressive package in full daylight yet.”

“Fuck you,” Brian whispered, shocked that the kid knew his game all along, knew his insecurities. “Fuck you,” he said louder.

“Okay,” Justin said happily and rolled over, wiggling his ass in the air. “Come on, Brian. I’m a horny twenty-year old, I need to be fucked. Often. And hard.”

Brian knew he was fucking lost. He slapped Justin’s ass, one, twice in punishment, then grabbed the lube, and quickly readied himself. He thrust one, then two slicked fingers inside Justin’s tight ass, quickly opening him up.

“More, need more,” Justin begged, his ass meeting Brian’s fingers, demanding more.

And Brian wasn’t one to deny his dick in someone’s ass. Not when his cock had decided stay back in action with a glorious morning hard-on. He thrust inside Justin a moment later. Their gratified moans filled the loft. But unlike the night before, Brian felt the overwhelming urge to pound into Justin hard, to make his mark, to _own_ him. “Hold on,” he warned.

And then Brian gripped Justin’s hips and slammed balls deep into him over and over again, burying his nine inches to the hilt, then pulling out almost all the way, before slamming in again. Justin whimpered and moaned.

“You like that?” Brian taunted, yanking Justin’s hair back roughly, the way he’d learned made Justin keen the night before.

“Yes,” Justin gasped, urging Brian on. “Harder, god, harder.”

Brian braced his hands on either side of Justin’s hips, lifting to almost a squatting position, and then he drilled into him harder and harder, loving the feel of Justin’s tight, warm ass around his cock. Jesus, it was so good.

Justin reached out and entwined his fingers with Brian’s, and when Brian squeezed his fingers back, giving in to the intimacy, he felt the boy’s moan of ecstasy. It was almost Brian’s undoing. He reached around to fist Justin’s cock, racing them towards mind-blowing orgasms. A few strokes later, Justin shot his load with a shout and Brian followed, allowing himself to fall into the bliss, all else going dark.

Finally, Brian realized he was probably crushing Justin, so he moved off him and quickly disposed of the condom.

Justin flopped onto his pillow, exhausted, but he managed to mumble, “I still want a blow job.”

“Oh really?” Brian said, regaining his own breath.

“Hmmm, I want to know how the great Brian Kinney sucks cock. Maybe learn a thing or two.”

“Oh, well, in that case, I might be able to oblige,” Brian purred.

But Justin’s stomach took that inopportune moment to growl loudly, causing Brian to give a sharp bark of laughter.

Justin swatted him, “Shut up, I’m hungry.”

Forty minutes later, Brian found himself walking into the diner with a disgustingly chipper Justin in tow. Ted, Emmett, and Michael sat in a booth, and they all stopped in shock when they spotted Justin. Brian had never, ever, brought anyone to the diner with him outside their circle and certainly not for breakfast. Brian silently cursed Justin for wheedling his way into a morning-after brunch. Fuck, not that it had taken much convincing. In fact, it had almost seemed natural. Which was bad. Very bad. 

Brian slid into the booth with his friends and Justin snuggled in next to him.

“Good morning,” Justin greeted with his usual friendliness.

“Well, hello, you two,” Emmett cooed.

“Don’t stop gossiping on our account, Emmy Lou,” Brian snarked when he noticed Ted and Mikey were just staring at them in blank shock. He hoped Emmett could fill the awkward silence.

“Oh, well, I was just telling the boys about my trick last night. He was a mortician.”

“So now you’ve fucked an undertaker and a mortician. You should be so proud,” Brian drawled.

“What about you, Brian? What did you two do?” Emmett asked, giving a sly look over at Justin.

Brian just ignored him, calling out to Deb who’d just come on duty. “Deb, coffee!”

“Keep your pants on. ‘Course with you, that’s impossible,” she added with a cackle, traipsing over with the coffee carafe. “Well, who’s this little ray of Sunshine?” she asked when she poured Justin some more coffee, and he gave her his patented brilliant smile of thanks.

“Justin,” he said, offering a hand. “Justin Taylor.”

“Well, aren’t you cute,” she teased, shaking his hand. “Which one of you landed him last night? Emmett? Ted?”

Mikey choked on his drink, pointing at Brian, still too shocked for words to form.

“He interns at Kinnetik,” Ted jumped in, trying to keep Brian from killing his best friend. He knew why Brian was acting strange, but to everyone else, this literally was the day hell froze over…

“Brian brought him to Babylon last night,” Emmett added.

“And then they went home together,” Mikey accused.

Realization hit Debbie. “You brought a trick to breakfast? Shit. I knew that was a pig I saw flying this morning.”

“Fuck off,” Brian said, finally reaching his limit. He just could not handle the merriment of his friends, the judgment, and most of all, Justin looking at him like he was…well, like this was normal. That they were normal. That they were…dating.

Brian stood and shrugged on his coat. “I’ve lost my appetite.” He left without another word.

*  *  *

Justin knew his jaw had dropped open at Brian’s rude departure. He looked over to see Brian’s immediately contrite friends. Not for Brian, but for the trick he’d just snubbed.

Deb pinched his cheek. “I’ll get you pancakes, Sunshine. Don’t you let him upset you none. He’s an asshole. You got that? Ain’t nothing to do with you?” Debbie assured and headed off to the kitchen.

Justin considered going after Brian, but figured he ought to let the man cool off. He knew enough about Brian from his time on Liberty Avenue to know a morning-after brunch was not typical, but maybe it was time to learn even more about Brian from his friends.

“Okay, why did he just freak out?” Justin casually asked the gang. And Emmett was more than ready to jump in with Brian’s cynical philosophy on life and love.

*  *  *

As Brian headed to his car, he knew that leaving the diner like an asshole, without a word to the kid, meant saying good-bye to Justin permanently. It had to be that way. Even if the thought of never seeing Justin again almost killed him.

Brian straightened his shoulders, disgusted at himself. If cancer hadn’t killed him, some blonde twink wouldn’t either. He’d get over it. He didn’t really care about the boy. It was probably just a weird side effect of his medications.

Yeah, he was fine. He’d be fine. Justin was now just a trick. And he never fucked a trick twice. Life would go on.


	7. Persistent Little Shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the positive comments!

**Chapter Seven**

Justin showed up at Kinnetik Monday morning, just like he always did, ready to take Brian home after his radiation. As if nothing had changed. As if he hadn’t been fired. Then fucked. Then dismissed.

Even all those things had happened, Justin had learned enough about Brian to know that his standard operating procedure was to push people away when he needed them most. Luckily, Justin was a stubborn little shit.

So he marched into Brian’s office without knocking and casually asked, “Ready to go?”

Brian snapped his head up, shock clearly on his face. “What the fuck are you doing here? I don’t do repeats,” Brian harshly bit out.

“Neither do I,” Justin assured. Even though it was a total lie. He knew this was a careful game of strategy he was playing. After Brian had ditched him at the diner, his friends had explained all of Brian Kinney’s life rules. Justin had seen glimpses of the man they described, but the Brian he knew was…more attainable, not some immortal legend but a real man who seemed just a bit lonely, a bit tired of the role he was forced to play by his friends. But if this was a façade Brian needed to maintain, he was willing to go along with it.

“But I still have a job to do,” Justin said casually. “So grab your jacket.”

Brian didn’t buy it for a second. “It’s not going to happen. I can get someone else to play nursemaid.”

Justin perched himself on Brian’s desk. “Why? We’ve gotten the sex out of the way. Now it can be all business.”

Brian looked up sharply, clearly not expecting that response. “Is that so?”

Justin shrugged, lying through his teeth. No way was he going without that kind of sex ever again. He planned to fuck Brian over and over again, but in the meantime, he could play the game. “Yeah. Look, you need help. You seem to not hate me. We get along well enough. So what’s the problem?”

“The problem is I don’t want or need some twink hovering over me like a goddamn mother hen.”

Justin decided it was time to pull out the ace up sleeve. “Speaking of your mother…”

Brian snapped his head up at this. Clearly, Joan Kinney was a sensitive subject. But Justin continued as if he had no idea, “Deb said that if you didn’t accept my help, she’d come do it herself.”

Brian leaned back in his chair, shocked. “You told Deb?”

Justin shrugged, “She already knew about the cancer, so Ted and I just let her know that I was taking care of you. She was so relieved; she was already trying to rearrange her shifts at the diner so she could be at your bedside. Now she doesn’t have to…unless we tell her how uncooperative you’re being.”

Brian gave out a laugh totally devoid of humor, “You little shits. You’re blackmailing me.”

Justin shrugged, “Not at all. You have your pick, me or Deb?” And then he gave a beatific smile of victory. “Shall I grab your coat?”

Brian groaned but knew he was beat. So he pushed back from his desk, yanked his coat off his chair, and stalked out, knowing Justin would follow.

Back at the loft, he left Brian to puke in peace before bringing in a joint and then leaving quietly again. Thirty minutes later, happily stoned, Brian made his way to the sofa. He clicked on the television and chose a James Dean movie he’d recorded, pointedly ignoring Justin. Justin tried not to roll his eyes. The loft wasn’t that big; they couldn’t avoid each other completely. And why even bother? He knew Brian liked him more than he wanted to admit. So why not enjoy their time together? With that thought, Justin threw a bag of popcorn into the microwave.

Ten minutes later, he plopped down next to Brian with a big bowl of the buttery snack. “It’ll help with the nausea,” Justin casually explained, thrusting the bowl towards Brian.

“Can we please talk about something other than vomiting?” Brian asked with a disgusted look.

“We can talk about your cock,” Justin said with a smirk, an expression he’d started picking up from Brian.

“Jesus,” Brian groaned. “I have fucking testicular cancer. I’m not your personal stud. Besides, I thought we’d gotten that out of the way.”

Justin shrugged innocently, “Well, I realized _you_ fucked _me_ , but _I_ haven’t fucked _you_.”

“Not going to happen,” Brian snapped.

But Justin was undeterred, “Why not? I’m good, very good, possibly the best you’ll ever have.”

Brian snorted in disbelief.

Justin doggedly continued, “Plus, if I’m on top, you don’t even have to get it up; you can leave all the hard work up to me.”

“Fuck, two puns in one sentence. Besides, a good top always gets their bottom off.”

“Oh, you’ll get off. I just meant you don’t have to start that way. It’ll be my job to make you hard…and then soft again.”

Brian groaned, slinking down in the cushions, grabbing a handful of popcorn. But Justin could see the slight smile on his face, and he patted Brian’s thigh, happy to let the man know that despite his cancer, he was still sex incarnate. God, if the man was like this now, what was he like in top form? Justin groaned and adjusted his suddenly tight jeans. 

Brian, of course, picked up on his sudden discomfort and snidely asked, “Isn’t fucking a patient against your medical ethics?”

Justin laughed, “I’m not a doctor, I’m not even a nurse. I think it’ll be okay.”

“Okay?” Brian taunted, raising an eyebrow. “Just okay? Come now, sunshine, we can do better than that.”

Justin saw the challenge in Brian’s eyes. So he leaned in and dared to kiss Brian. He melted against the man when Brian didn’t push him away. It was a slow kiss, an exploratory one, and Justin loved the buttery taste of popcorn on Brian’s tongue. He sensed that for all of Brian’s talk, he wasn’t actually up for more at the moment. So eventually he pulled away, rested his head on Brian’s lap, and watched the movie.

He felt Brian staring down at the blonde head in his lap. Fuck, this was cuddling. He knew Brian Kinney didn’t cuddle. But after long moments, he felt Brian relax against him and let him remain. Maybe it was just fatigue that hadn’t made Brian push him away. Or maybe he was forcing Brian to break some of his stupid rules. Justin smiled at the thought as he snuggled into Brian’s lap, his hand curling around Brian’s thigh.

*  *  *

Justin awoke just before dawn to the feel of Brian’s sinful fingers, gliding up and down his erection. He vaguely remembered helping Brian into bed around midnight after they’d fallen asleep on the sofa. Apparently, he’d just followed Brian down onto the mattress, too tired to haul his ass back to the couch despite Brian’s previous instructions about who was allowed in his bed. And thank god. Because now Brian had easy access to him, and when he felt the older man’s tongue flick against the head of his cock, he groaned, “Oh fuck.” And he pushed up, wanting more, needing more.

Brian’s talented mouth sucked and then swallowed him completely, and Justin gripped the sheets tightly, ready to be swept into a quick orgasm, his body already thrumming with need. But apparently Brian wanted to toy with him; make him pant and sweat and plead.

Brian would speed up, his fist pumping along with his mouth, nasty tongue flicks across the sensitive head of Justin’s cock, and right when he was close, Brian would suddenly back off, giving leisurely licks along his shaft. He’d pause and roll Justin’s balls, suck each one slowly, and then start picking up the pace once more until Justin was on the brink, but he’d never let him go over the edge.

“You’re killing me,” Justin groaned.

He felt Brian’s smile. “You’re the one that wanted a lesson. Shut up and learn.” Oh dear god, that’s right. Clearly, Brian had thrust him into a master class, and so learn he did. The things that man could do with his tongue. When Brian slid a spit-covered finger into his ass, Justin was done for as he started to beg for release, his hands tangling painfully in Brian’s hair, his hips fucking Brian’s mouth with a vengeance, thrusting without conscious thought.

Thankfully, Brian apparently decided it was time to end the torment and started working with a vengeance with his finger, fist, and tongue all in perfect concert. Justin’s orgasm exploded upon him, causing his whole body to arch into Brian’s mouth as he called his name. Brian swallowed spurt after spurt of come, milking his orgasm to the final end.

Justin was pretty sure he blacked out for a few seconds, because when he finally opened his eyes, Brian had already pulled the covers back over them.

“You should give classes,” Justin suggested, a happily sated expression surely all over his face.

“Why would I give away my trade secrets?” Brian retorted, his eyes closing, having clearly expended too much effort. “But we’re even now. Actually, you owe me a hand job.”

“Oh we’re keeping score, are we?” Justin asked, curling up against Brian’s side, throwing an arm and leg over him.

“I don’t snuggle,” Brian snapped, giving a half-hearted attempt to push him away.

“It’s not snuggling. I’m your caregiver and you’re cold. I’m sharing body-heat.”

“You’re full of shit,” Brian snorted, but allowed Justin to stay.

“Want to start a new event that we can keep score in?”

“What did you have in mind?” Brian asked, clearly curious against his will.

Justin furrowed his brow, considering his options. Some things he wasn’t ready for yet – especially since he’d only recently bottomed – but he did want to rim Brian. “Well, technically, I owe you a good rimming,” Justin offered. “But I’ll let you pick the new event. I mean with all your _years_ of experience…”

“And your lack of it,” Brian snapped. “No imagination in kids these days. You can look through my toy drawer and find some inspiration later.” 

Justin bolted upright and looked at the aforementioned drawer. He practically threw himself across Brian’s body to pull it open. And inside… “Holy shit.” He wasn’t completely sure he even knew what some of the toys were!

“Down, puppy, down,” Brian said with a smack to his ass. “I’m tired and you rudely woke me up.”

Justin gaped at him. “I woke you up?”

“Your dick did, it was trying to bore a whole through my spine.”

Justin busted out laughing at how sincerely Brian was glowering at him. “I apologize on behalf of my dick, but it really can’t help itself with you next to it.”

“Suck up,” Brian sighed, and then moments later, he was fast asleep.

Justin couldn’t help himself from planting a few sweet kisses on Brian’s chest before drifting off to sleep as well.

*   *   *

The two got into a routine for the week. Brian would awaken before Justin and head into the shower. He wasn’t ready for anyone to see him fully naked, and Justin seemed to understand this, giving Brian space, starting the coffee while the older man finished in the bathroom.

Then Justin would shower and get ready to head to PIFA. Brian would drop him off, work for an hour at Kinnetik, then head to radiation. When he was finished, Justin would be waiting in the lobby to take him home.

Back at the loft, Brian would pretend to work for an hour or two at his laptop while Justin sketched until the nausea took hold of Brian, and he had to barricade himself in the bathroom. He’d gotten a prescription for nausea from the doctor, but it didn’t seem to be helping much.

On Wednesday, when Brian finally couldn’t vomit anymore, he heard the bathroom door open. The kid had a freaking sixth sense about his puking schedule. Brian pried one eye open to glare at him, but Justin just stood in the doorway, shaking a board game.

“Look what I found,” he cooed.

“You’re the devil’s spawn,” Brian bit out.

“Scrabble! I’m going to kick your ass.”

“I’d rather you ate it.”

“Later. Come on.” Justin hauled Brian to his feet and helped him into the living room where he’d set up pillows on the fluffy white rug, propping them against the sofa. He’d also placed out various snacks and bottle of wine.

“We are not having a fucking picnic,” Brian said in horror, looking at the romantic setting.

“Of course _we’re_ not. _I’m_ eating fucking expensive brie cheese that you’d just puke it up. And there’s no way your system could handle wine right now. No, I’m having a picnic alone, and you’re eating dry toast, while we play scrabble.”

Justin pushed Brian down onto the pillows, then took his spot opposite him and started setting up the scrabble board. Justin paused to take a huge bite of cheese and grapes. “Mmm, delicious.”

Brian glared him, jealous of a fucking piece of cheese passing through the plump lips of his little nursemaid. He was equally jealous that Justin could eat all that crap. Heartless bastard. “You’re a sadist, that’s it, huh?” Brian snapped. “You derive pleasure from torturing your sex partners.”

“Why? You want to be tied up?”

“I always do the tying up.” Brian filled those words with such meaning that Justin’s eyes snapped to him. He watched the kid gulp.

“Really?” Justin licked his lips in anticipation. “Tonight?”

Brian groaned and leaned his head back against he sofa, “Jesus, you’re fucking killing me. I’m not exactly up to punishing you, little boy.” Justin nodded, looking contrite instantly. But Brian realize although his body might not be up to it, his mind certainly enjoyed the fantasy. And his tongue still worked. He lowered his voice into a sex drawl that he knew drove Justin crazy.

“But I’d bet you’d like that, Sunshine. Being spanked, paddled, tied up, blind folded, gagged, opened with every kind of toy until you’re screaming out, begging for me to fuck you.”

Justin’s jeans grew uncomfortably tight at Brian’s words, his already rather creative imagination going into overdrive. Brian wanted to scream at the injustice of the world. Hot blonde boy in front of him and the radiation had made his dick soft again. Damn, fucking cancer.

Justin didn’t seem to realize that now that Brian’s brief reprieve from radiation was over, he might back to sheer exhaustion that extended to his cock. Instead, Justin crawled over with hungry eyes, and literally laid himself across Brian’s lap.

Brian cursed, “Jesus, you’re going to kill me faster than cancer?”

“Don’t say that,” Justin snapped, apparently not liking this turn of conversation to a somber note.

Brian looked away, confused, not sure how to tell the kid that the great Brian Kinney wasn’t up to even some light BDSM. Even with an ass as perfect as Justin’s was, laid over his lap.

Justin reached up and grabbed Brian’s chin, forcing him to look down at Justin. And when Brian looked in his eyes, he knew the kid got it. He knew Brian wasn’t up to much action, but he willing to flirt and tease and do anything he could to distract Brian from the radiation. “Come on, old man,” Justin taunted. “You know you want to just spank me a few times. I’ve been a very bad boy.”

Brian gave a small laugh at the ass wiggling up and down in front of his face, and then Justin unsnapped his jeans, and suddenly Brian wasn’t laughing anymore. Justin lowered his pants to reveal the smooth, pale perfection of his bubble butt. Brian reached forward to squeeze and caress it, digging his fingers in to knead the flesh, causing Justin to moan.   
“How bad have you been?” Brian demanded.

“Hmm, I spent my entire Art History class dreaming of your cock up my ass instead of learning about the great masters.”

Brian swung his hand down hard, spanking Justin sharply, making the boy yelp in surprise as his skin turned a bit pink. “I am one of the masters,” Brian growled.

“Yes, sir,” Justin whispered back. “Anything you say, sir. You’re so wise in your older years.”

That earned him another harsh slap, and Justin pulsed his hips up and down asking for more. Brian rained a few more hard smacks on each cheek as Justin groaned, enjoying it, his hard cock rubbing against Brian’s thighs. God, how he wanted to fuck him. But his fucking body wasn’t up to it. Brian squeezed his eyes shut in frustration, but then felt Justin raise up on his hips a bit and guide Brian’s hands to his cock. They both groaned when Brian squeezed it. He got the message – his dick might be out of commission, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t give pleasure.

Brian set up a leisurely, teasing pace, stroking Justin’s length a few times, then twisting his fist at the swollen head, using the leaking pre-cum as lube.

“God, more,” Justin groaned, too far gone to care how needy he sounded.

Brian felt his dick twitch in response. Not enough to matter now, but he accepted his predicament was only a temporary one. He slid his hand under the sofa cushion behind his back and pulled out a bottle of lube. He quickly slicked his left hand as his right one continued to fist Justin.

Brian slid his fingers along Justin’s crack, teasing them, then he slowly circled his tight hole and pushed inside. He slowly fucked him with one finger in rhythm to his strokes on Justin’s cock, loving the moans and grunts that were falling from Justin’s lips. He slipped in a second finger and then went deep and curled down to stroke along Justin’s prostate.

“Fuuuuuck,” Justin moaned. “Why did I ever ignore my prostate?”

Brian found this utterly amusing and laughed while he stroked the sensitive gland once more. “You really needed to get laid, Sunshine.”

“Tell—” gasp “me” moan “about it.”

Brian sped up his hands and Justin started thrusting his hips, wanting to fuck himself on Brian’s fingers as much as he wanted to thrust into Brian’s tight vice.

“Oh god, so close. Harder, _harder_ , oh god…” Justin moaned, his back arching as the pleasure built and built, his hips bucking more wildly, until he came, shooting stream after stream into Brian’s hand. He collapsed a moment later, utterly spent.

Brian kept a towel handily hidden under the couch cushion as well and used it to clean them up. Justin pushed into a kneeling position and pulled up his pants. He blushed a bright red, and he covered his face with hands, “I can’t believe we just did that.”

“Now you’re embarrassed?” Brian asked, smirking in amusement.

Justin shoved his shoulder, “Shut up, it’s not funny. I asked you to _spank_ me for god’s sake.”

Brian found Justin irresistible in his sudden shyness and grabbed his chin for a hard kiss. Then another. Then he realized he was being a lesbian and pulled away. “It’s your job to keep the client happy. You’re being paid well for it,” Brian said flippantly with a shrug.

He watched as Justin’s face fell, and the kid scooted away from him. Brian felt like shit for implying he was some sort of prostitute. “I was kidding.”

“Sure,” Justin said with a forced smile. “Uh—do you need your medication or anything?” Justin stood up and headed into the kitchen, and Brian hated the knot in his stomach. Damn it, he shouldn’t care about this kid’s little feelings. And he wasn’t a really kid. He was old enough to make his own choices, and old enough for hot sex in the middle of the afternoon.

Brian heaved himself up, which required way too much of his energy. God, at least being an asshole had made him forget he had cancer for a second. He smiled, realizing that was pretty fucking twisted.

He walked into the kitchen and spun Justin around from the refrigerator, trapping him against the counter, pressing his lower body against Justin’s. “Stop. Don’t ever be embarrassed about enjoying sex, whenever, wherever, however you want, got it? You’re fucking hot,” Brian commanded.

Justin met Brian’s gaze for moment, then looked away, “Is that why you’ve kept me around? To…service you?”

“Pretty sure I’m not the one that just got off,” Brian countered, his tongue pressing into his cheek as he smirked.

Justin huffed out a laugh, “No, you weren’t.”

Brian knew Justin wanted to say more, but that was about as much emotional crap as he was up to at the moment. He stepped back and grabbed Justin’s hand, “Come on, let’s play scrabble.”

Justin gave a brilliant smile, the one that made Debbie call him Sunshine. Apparently offering to play a stupid board game had been exactly the right move, so that Justin didn’t feel like a whore. Huh, that was easy. Maybe this relationship stuff wasn’t so hard. The moment the thought flitted across Brian’s mind, he jerked away from Justin. He was _not_ in a relationship.

“You okay?” Justin asked, seeing Brian’s mood shift.

“Yeah, fine,” Brian strode doors the sofa and slipping back down to the floor. Justin followed a moment later and set-up the board game.


	8. Staying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the encouragement!

**Chapter Eight**

Two hours later, Brian was trying to win scrabble by using a triple score tile. Justin had proven a worthy opponent. He smiled when he realized the answer was simple. He put down the word “bat.”

“B-A-T, triple word score and I win,” he looked up to gloat at Justin, but the kid was just staring at the tiles, a haunted look in his eyes. Brian swung his gaze back to the word. “Let me guess, you were destined to be a great pitcher until a horrible accident and your dreams were dashed,” Brian hypothesized, defaulting to humor.

Justin shook his head, “Not exactly.”

But Brian realized he’d hit somewhere close to the truth, “Justin?”

“It’s nothing, it’s stupid. Sorry, I’ll clean up.”

Justin reached for the tiles, but Brian caught his hand, holding it still, watching as Justin struggled to keep it together. “Is it as bad as cancer?” Brian asked.

Justin smiled at that, and Brian felt relief course through his body that the haunted look had dimmed a bit. “Not anymore.”

“So it once was?” Brian asked, confused. Justin bit his cheek, not wanting to say more, which just pissed Brian off. “Stop being a fucking baby and tell me.”

“Fine, I was bashed in the head with a baseball bat at my prom. Happy?” Justin snapped.

Brian just stared at him wide eyed, trying to process the information, his brain frozen and then slowly he started to remember a newspaper story a few years back. Deb had been up in arms over the incident.

“Deb had an article about you taped up at the diner a few years back,” Brian said. “You were bashed by a fellow student. Your best friend, Daphne I take it, saved your life and called 911.”

“Yeah,” Justin said with a nod. “After you ran out of the diner—” He paused to give Brian a reproachful glare for that – “Deb realized I was the same kid. She was really sweet. She actually helped raise some money for my physical therapy back then.”

“Didn’t you have insurance?” Brian asked, confused.

“Yeah, but my dad dropped me from his policy as soon as I was out of the coma.”

“What? Why?”

“Because his son was gay,” Justin said sadly.

“Fuck him. FUCK. HIM. You don’t need him or that shit in your life. You hear me?” Brian snapped, feeling like punching Justin’s homophobic dad in the face. How could he disown a son like Justin?

Justin looked up and smiled at Brian’s vehemence. “I hear you.”

Brian leaned back and closed his eyes, “How bad were you hurt?”

“Some brain damage. The nerves to my right hand are still pretty fucked up. It spasms and curls up, so sometimes I draw with a special computer program. Deb said one of her son’s friends had one at work and…you, it was you.” Justin looked at Brian, realization dawning. Of course, Brian owned Kinetic now, but back then he’d worked for Vanguard, and their art department had donated the computer to Justin.

Brian nodded, “Yeah, I told her about it. I’m glad it helped you.”

Justin gulped, “You have no idea. My mom wouldn’t let me give up; she was great. Nothing like my dad. And she sued him in the divorce to add me back on his insurance policy, but he refused to pay for any of my college tuition. She had to cave for the sake of my sister.”

“That sucks,” was all Brian could think to say.

“You know what the most fucked up thing was?” Justin looked up at Brian, “He didn’t come and see me in the hospital. He just left a letter for me. It said how he was disgusted that I was a fag, that he hadn’t raised a son like that, that he was ashamed of me, and that he no longer wanted to have anything to do with me. And then he signed the fucking letter ‘dad’. Not Mr. Taylor, but fucking dad. He’d just disowned me, so how could, how could he—I still have the letter,” Justin managed to get out as he struggled against the tears threatening to start.

“Burn it,” Brian said.

But Justin sadly shook his head, “I can’t. Because every time I think about my childhood, the way he used to love me, and I start to think maybe things aren’t so bad, that maybe our relationship can be fixed, I read that letter. I read it and remember that I’d rather rot in hell then ever have a relationship with him again.”

Brian caught his breath, seeing the strength, the bravery, the defiance in Justin’s eyes. He’d been through a hell of a lot more than Brian would ever have guessed. And yet somehow the kid still had a fucking sunshiney smile – how did he do that? How did he maintain his…optimism? Even some of his fucking innocence?

Maybe it was because he seemed to have a mother that actually loved him. Yeah, maybe that was it. But still, the kid was amazing. Not that he’d ever tell him that. But apparently some of his emotion was on his face, and although he quickly dropped his mask of indifference once more, Justin had seen it for a moment. He crawled over and kissed Brian so sweetly, so tenderly, that Brian let his guard slip back down and kissed him back softly. He didn’t think he’d ever been kissed like that before. It was…nice. Really nice.

“You helped me more than you know back then,” Justin whispered. “I’m glad I can repay you now.” He stared into Brian’s eyes with an emotion Brian was terrified of, but he couldn’t look away.

Thankfully, the spell was broken when Brian’s cell phone started ringing. He looked down at the caller ID. “It’s Mikey,” he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I bet Deb told him I have fucking cancer.”

“He’s your best friend. Talk to him. I have to go to the grocery store for dinner anyway.” Justin hopped up and grabbed his cell and wallet, heading out.

Brian answered the phone and faced the music. It was time to tell Mikey. 

*  *  *

When Justin re-entered the loft, bags full of groceries, Brian was waiting for him. And he didn’t look too pleased.

“Hi,” Justin said tentatively, seeing the leashed fury in Brian’s eyes, and not sure what the hell he’d done this time.

“I called your agency,” Brian casually said. Justin cringed – so he’d found out. Whatever. He’d have known eventually.

“It’s no big deal.”

“It’s no big deal?!” Brian shouted, moving to tower over him. “You never fucking told them I rehired you. They wouldn’t take my money.”

“That’s because you never did rehire me. I haven’t been here because it’s my job, I’ve been here because I—"

“Don’t say it,” Brian snapped.

“— _care_ about you, you bastard. Jesus, do you really think I’d be fucking you while taking payment? I’m not a whore, Brian. No matter what you implied earlier.”

“I was paying you the first time you got off, and the second and—“

“It’s not going to work.”

“What?” Brian snapped.

“Being mean to me. You can’t push me away. I’m onto you, Brian Kinney. You’re an emotionally stunted asshole who pushes people away when they get too close so you won’t get hurt. Well, it’s not going to work with me, so man up!” Brian looked bowled over by that assessment, but Justin didn’t stay to gloat. Instead, he strode into the bedroom, stripping off his clothing as he walked. He knew how to handle Brian Fucking Kinney. When things got too real, turn to sex.

“What the hell are you doing?” Brian snapped.

“If I really need to explain it to you, you’re losing your touch.”

Brian tossed back the Beam in his hand, and then Justin heard him following him into the bedroom…probably to kick him out. So Justin pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. And that made Brian pull up short as he saw Justin’s hot ass in the air. Justin went in for the kill. He sucked on a finger and then pumped it in and out of his tight hole while his other hand fisted his cock.

“Fuck,” Brian gasped, crawling onto the bed, swatting Justin’s hand away from his perfect ass. He licked across Justin’s puckered hole, and then thrust inside, fucking him with his tongue, dirty, nasty, saliva dribbling out to slide down Justin’s crack. Justin reached down to capture Brian’s spit and rubbed it over his balls, whimpering.

“Oh god, don’t stop, don’t stop,” Justin begged. But then Brian suddenly did, and Justin feared his ploy had backfired, that Brian had come to his senses. Maybe he shouldn’t be taunting Brian with his ass when Brian couldn’t get it up. Even thinking the thought made Justin cringe. Sex defined Brian Kinney. He shouldn’t be reminding the man that radiation was killing his hard-on.

But instead of pushing Justin away, Brian reached across him and opened the top drawer of his nightstand, pulling out a vibrating dildo. Justin felt even more blood rush to his cock if that was possible, “Oh yes. Yes, yes, yes.”

He watched as Brian quickly lubed it up and then positioned it at his entrance. Brian paused to thrust one then two lubed fingers in and out, preparing him even more, but Justin was already relaxed from the amazing rimming, “Now, need it now!”

Brian thrust the dildo into him in one smooth motion and Justin cried out at the pleasure and slight twinge of pain. Brian smacked his ass once, twice, and then slowly pulled the dildo out. “No, more, more,” Justin pleaded.

Brian grinned wickedly and then clicked on the switch, and thrust the now vibrating dildo back inside him. Justin screamed.

“You’re such a bottom slut,” Brian accused with another slap on Justin’s ass.

“You made me one,” Justin groaned. “So fuck me hard.”

Brian ruthlessly fucked the hell out of him until Justin was shooting so hard his come hit the back wall. Brian slowly pulled the dildo out and tossed it to the opposite side of the bed. He placed a sweet kiss on Justin’s lower back, and Justin was pretty sure he died for a second. Then he realized he very much needed to pleasure Brain, and he raised up and pushed Brian down onto his stomach, yanking his sweat pants off him.

“What the hell?” Brian tried to buck Justin off him, but Justin just slid down, pinning his legs with his body.

“I don’t take it up the ass, Justin,” Brian warned.

“Then why do you have a dildo?” Justin countered. And before Brian could reply, he leaned down and did what he’d been dreaming about since Brian did it to him. He stuck out his tongue and tasted Brian’s sweet, sweet ass.

“Oh fuck,” Brian groaned and buried his face in his pillow.

Justin took that as permission to continue and continue he did. First with long licks all the up Brian’s crack then down to the underside of his balls, then up again. Slowly, he started to pay more and more attention to Brian’s tight hole, until he tentatively stuck his tongue inside. But Brian was so fucking tight. “Relax, my dick’s not going up your ass today,” Justin whispered, gently slapping Brian’s butt cheek.

Brian took a breath and relaxed, allowing Justin’s tongue entry. And Justin fucking loved it. He had no idea how long he spent working his way in and around Brian’s ass. Finally, Justin decided to be a bit more daring, and he gently place a finger at Brian’s opening. “Let me?” he pleaded.

Brian shook his head.

“How will I learn if you don’t teach me?” Justin pointed out, even though he was a damn good top and knew how to find the spot on other men. Still, he knew this was the way to make Brian feel in control. So he waited and, a moment later, Brian bucked up, signaling him to continue. Justin slid in one finger. Slowly, slowly going deeper. “Here?” he asked, trying to find Brian’s prostate.

“A little more, deeper,” Brian coached. “Good, now crook your finger down and—ah, right there.”

Justin could feel the change in texture and scraped the sensitive flesh once more. He grinned when Brian shuddered beneath him. He gently slid over Brian’s prostate again and again as his finger moved in a slow rhythm. He began to pick up the pace, loving the moans coming out of Brian’s mouth, but after a few minutes, Brian caught his hand.

“Enough,” Brian said, his voice strained. And Justin immediately heard the exhaustion in his voice, everything he couldn’t say. Brian had pushed his body enough for the day; it had reached its limit.

Justin gently withdrew his fingers and then kissed his way up Brian’s spine, nipping at the tender flesh behind Brian’s ear. “Thank you,” he said.

Brian nodded and started to roll over, then stopped. Justin reached down for the blanket to cover them, knowing Brian didn’t want him to see the surgical scar. Brian slid under the blanket and flopped back. Justin snuggled onto his chest, throwing a leg across Brian’s hips. 

“I told you, I don’t snuggle,” Brian said, but there wasn’t much heat behind the words.

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you, I’m taking a nap,” Justin whispered with a smile, snuggling in deeper. Brian snorted, but didn’t shove Justin away. They both slipped into a much-needed nap.

An hour later, Justin awoke and slipped out from under Brian. He headed into the kitchen to make dinner, but when he’d finished, Brian was still out cold, and he looked so peaceful, Justin didn’t have the heart to wake him.

Justin ate by himself at the counter as he read his Art History textbook. He then worked a bit on some of his sketches and finally he headed into the bathroom to get ready for bed. He smiled to himself as he used Brian’s toothpaste on the toothbrush he’d packed. He was still in the loft, even though Brian had found out it was no longer because it was Justin’s job. He knew no man before him had made it this far.

He also knew he might very well be setting himself up for tremendous heart-break. But learning today that Brian was the reason for him receiving the computer during his darkest hours…well, it had only made him fall harder. Because he’d seen Brian at his weakest, at his most unguarded – cancer had a way of doing that to a man. And rather than being disgusted by the man behind the mask, as Justin figured Brian assumed everyone would be, he found him to be irresistible. He wanted to make this man smile and laugh and let his guard down all the time.

Justin shook his head at himself in the mirror. He was playing with fire, but damn it felt good. He slipped into bed beside Brian a few minutes later, and sighed when Brian rolled towards him, pulling him back against his chest. He was snuggling. And Justin never wanted to leave.


	9. Rodeo Days

**Chapter Nine**

Justin started to call Sundays “Rodeo Day,” because Brian would finally have enough energy for a hard-on (not that they ever talked about him not having one the days of radiation) but he needed Justin to do most of the work. So Justin rode him and rode him hard. By the time night fell, and Justin was more than a little tipsy, he’d even yell “yehaw!” upon orgasm. Brian would never admit to anyone he found it amusing as hell. How anyone could make him smile during the hell of cancer had to be a miracle worker?

Although truth be told, the more weeks he lived in this hell, the more he could feel himself changing. Hell, it had started the moment he’d been diagnosed. He’d spent many long, long nights thinking about Gus and Lindsay, about the fact that he could be a good dad, a great dad, if he wanted to be. That he wanted to see his son grow up rather than die young. That he didn’t need to fear becoming his father and screwing it up. Gus loved him. He didn’t want to disappoint the little man.

He thought about Mikey and Debbie, his surrogate family, and how he wouldn’t mind spending more holidays with them. That, God help him, he wanted to be there when Deb finally gave into the good detective, maybe married him. He could maybe even suffer through a wedding ceremony for Ben and Mikey. And Ted and Emmett, well, they were pretty good too. Hell, it was up to him to keep Ted using his boring accounting skills.

And he thought about Justin…a lot. About how the loft felt less lonely. About how nice it was to laugh with someone and curl up and watch a movie as it rained outside. About how nice it was to wake up with someone next to him.

And Justin seemed to want him even with cancer. It was insane. He was sick and weak and only half a man, and no one should… _love_ him like this. And yet Justin almost seemed to. He was at the loft almost every day and most nights, and he didn’t look at Brian with disgust when he was sweating and puking his guts out. Instead, he looked at him like he was the strongest person in the world. Which was why Brian decided to do something that would really piss him off.

Justin was gently licking his surgical scar as they showered – something Brian had almost killed him for a few weeks prior when Justin had taken him unawares but now found strangely comforting. “I paid your tuition for next semester,” Brian casually said.

The licking stopped immediately. “You what?” Justin asked, shocked.

“You haven’t been working, because you’ve been taking care of me. So I paid your tuition. It’s only fair.”

“The fuck it is,” Justin snapped, furious. “I’m not your fucking boy toy, and you’re not my sugar daddy.”

Brian burst out laughing, “If the shoe fits.”

“Fuck off!” Justin said shoving him, which made Brian laugh louder.

“Now you’re abusing a cancer patient,” Brian howled. “You’re a terrible person.”

Justin crossed his arms and huffed, but he calmed down a little. Brian pushed Justin’s hair back and cupped his cheeks. “Just say thank you, you asshole.”

“I’ll pay you back,” Justin countered. “With interest.”

“Fine,” Brian said with a sigh.

“I’m serious. We’re writing up a contract.”

“Kinky,” Brain said with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Be serious,” Justin whined, but a smile was forming.

“Fine, then turn around and let me fuck you. How’s that for serious?” Brian growled. It was Sunday, it was his day to fuck, and he needed Justin now.  He spun him around and pressed him into the glass wall, then sank into him a moment later. Their gratified moans echoed in the bathroom.

*  *  *

Eight weeks after Justin first picked him up from his radiation appointment, Brian walked out of his doctor’s office with a huge smile. Justin was waiting.

“Well?” Justin asked, nervous as hell.

“Scans came back looking good. They think they got it all.”

Justin gave a whoop of excitement and pulled Brian into a hug, dancing around. Brian let him, but he felt a twinge of sadness too. Everything would change now. He couldn’t keep holding onto Justin. It hadn’t been fair to begin with. Brian had to go back to his old life. And Justin needed to return to his. Because the Brian Justin knew was already slipping away. He’d been too weak, too vulnerable, too exposed. He’d allowed it to happen. He’d been fighting fucking cancer, but now he knew he had to take control back. He could feel the walls coming back up, because now that he wasn’t dying, there was, in a sick way, so much more to lose. But Justin seemed blissfully unaware of his dark thoughts.

Justin leaned in and whispered, “Let’s go home and celebrate.”

Brian decided reality could return tomorrow. He deserved today with Justin.

Back at the loft, they slowly stripped each other, but then Brian took charge. He needed to fuck Justin like he once was, like the stud of Liberty Avenue. So he threw Justin back on the bed, mounted him, pushed his legs up on his shoulders, and fucked him for all he was worth. He fucked him once by dragging him all over the loft, against the counter, on the dining room table, over the coffee table. And then finally, very, very slowly in the shower, and that was maybe the best of all.

Afterwards, they lay on the bed as Brian indulged in a smoke, something he’d been missing. Justin lazily licked his balls and cock, and Brian smiled as he felt his erection return. His body was starting to fully recover.

Justin paused in his ministrations and reached over into his backpack at the foot of the bed. He then dropped a flyer onto Brian’s chest. Brian picked it up and read it. “An invitation to an art showing at PIFA. Yours, I presume?”

“Uh-huh. They selected five of us, I’m the only one that’s not a Senior.”

“Impressive,” Brian murmured.

“I expect my boyfriend to be there,” Justin casually said.

Brian felt his heart stop in his chest. Justin had a fucking boyfriend? Jesus, why did that fucking hurt so much? Why hadn’t he said anything before now? “Who the fuck is your boyfriend?” Brian snapped.

“You.”

Brian’s heart started to race rapidly once more, but he stamped down the joy he felt at Justin’s statement, instead saying, “I don’t do boyfriends”

“Alright, I mean it seems a little early to call each other life partners, but if you insist,” Justin said with a shrug.

Brian pushed back to look at Justin. “How high are you?”

Justin laughed, “Just come.”

Brian shoved his cock into Justin’s mouth. “I’m trying to.”

Justin smiled and went back to work on Brian’s cock. Just as he was about to orgasm, Justin pulled back. “Are you coming?”

“Yes,” Brain gasped, “keep going.”

“Not until you say you’re coming,” Justin whispered.

Brian froze, confused, and then realization hit. He flopped back in the pillow with a resigned sigh, “Fine, I’ll be there, you little shit, now suck!” And Justin happily sucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proofing is taking longer than I thought because I keep adding stuff...


	10. The Showing

**Chapter Ten**

Brian stood outside the gallery of Justin’s show, not going in. He didn’t know why he’d agreed. Clearly, a moment of weakness. He was supposed to be ending things with Justin, not encouraging him. He started to walk away, but Debbie spotted him from inside and pushed open the door.

“Get your butt in here,” she commanded, and Brian dutifully entered. “How're you feeling?” she asked, concern in her eyes.

“Cancer-free,” he replied.

She smiled widely and hugged him tight. “Now don’t freak out when you see his paintings, okay?”

Brian pulled back. That didn’t bode well, and he turned quickly to find Justin’s display. A small crowd had formed near the back, clearly viewing the most popular artist of the night, and Brian just knew it had to be Justin’s work. He headed over, and then slowed his steps as he neared.

There were a few abstract pieces that were quite stunning, but a series of paintings held the crowd enthralled. Five paintings showed a man, weak, crumbling, dark colors, his face obscured, but his body beautiful. And then him rising from the ashes, stronger once more. There was a superhero quality to the series, darkness and light found again, the fall and rise of hero.

It was Brian and his journey with cancer.

Brian felt the wind knocked out of him, staring at such a naked portrayal of his pain. His darkest hours, the horror of what he’d felt. How the fuck had Justin captured it so brilliantly? And how the fuck could Justin put him on display like this? This was his life, his _secret_.

He twisted away and the motion caught Justin’s attention who’d been in the middle of a crowd of fans. Their eyes locked, and Justin’s smile instantly dropped seeing Brian’s fury. He paled and pushed his way through the crowd, worry and panic evident in his eyes.

“Brian…” he whispered, reaching out to touch him. But Brian jerked away and managed to stalk through the gallery to the outside. Once beyond the gallery windows, he gulped in air, trying to calm himself, to keep himself from killing Justin, to keep from shattering into a million pieces.

“Brian…” he heard Justin’s tentative voice again.

“Stay the fuck away from me,” Brian bit out.

He should have known Justin wouldn’t heed the warning, and instead, Justin moved closer. “I didn’t mean to upset you—“

But the moment his hand grazed Brian’s, the fury was unleashed. Brian slammed Justin against the wall, not hurting him, but knocking the breath out of him. “Fuck. You. Guess my cancer really paid off for you, huh?”

“Jesus, Brian, no. I—you’re beautiful in there. I didn’t realize my professors had seen the pieces, put me in the show because of them, but they deserve to be seen. You were amazing—“

“I was DISEASED. God, you’re such a twat. You don’t get it, any of it. You’re just a spoiled little schoolboy who doesn’t know shit about life. You don’t know fucking pain. So you used mine.” And with that, Brian released Justin and stormed away.

He vaguely heard Justin cry out, but he didn’t turn back. He didn’t think. He didn’t let himself acknowledge that he’d just told a kid who’d been bashed that he didn’t know pain. But in that moment, Brian truly wished someone had smashed him with a bat rather than feeling like this; the world had seen into his soul. That’s what Justin had done. Exposed him, stripped down his defenses, and put him out there for the world to judge. And he knew they wouldn’t like what they saw.

No one would, he’d been taught that young. 


	11. Backroom

**Chapter Eleven**

It had been two weeks. Two weeks since the art show.

Yet, Brian knew the moment Justin entered Babylon. He could literally feel his eyes on him. So he tossed back his drink, ignored Ted’s reproving look, and dragged the trick in front of him into the backroom where he pushed him down to his knees to blow him. Trying to block out everything. Trying to block out cancer and Justin and the guilt gnawing at his insides.

Brian hadn’t seen Justin at all in the past two weeks. He’d dodged his calls, his emails, his texts. He’d ignored Deb’s lectures and Ted’s attempts at mactch-making and Mikey’s relief that the twink was gone. He even had Cynthia send Justin away when he’d finally shown up at Kinetic, desperate. He’d fucking crossed a line. He’d fucking used Brian’s cancer for his art. How dare the shit? How dare he let the world see him like that? It had only been for him.

Pissed again, Brian started face fuck the trick.

And then he heard, “Fuck off.” Brian looked up to see Justin glaring at his trick.

“I kinda have my dick in his mouth,” Brian snapped without thinking. He tried not to flinch at the hurt he saw in Justin’s eyes.

“Are you seriously doing this?”

“Getting sucked? Yes.” And Brian thrust into the man’s mouth once more, knowing he was the biggest asshole on the planet. But he wanted to hurt Justin the way he’d been hurt.

“Brian, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t know my paintings would upset you. Okay, maybe I did, but they shouldn’t have. You were so strong and beautiful and amazing, and I wanted to capture it. I—I couldn’t paint while you were sick once I started…falling for you…but then one day, when I just put everything I was feeling on canvas—are you listening to me?”

Brian glared at Justin, “No! This is the fucking backroom of Babylon, not some goddamn confessional. Fuck off.”

“Okay, this is getting too weird,” the trick said, finally having enough. He stopped jerking off and blowing Brian, pulled up his pants and hurried away.

“Happy now?” Brian snapped.

Justin tried to smile, “I could take his place.”

“I don’t want you anymore, you got that?” Brian snarled. “I’m done with you. Thanks for helping me through cancer and all, but I paid your tuition, so we’re even. Now stop stalking me and fuck off.”

Brian told himself to be strong as Justin’s eyes filled with tears. As he watched the devastation and heartbreak on Justin’s face. Justin looked away, trying to control his emotions, his hands balling into fists. “But I love you,” he whispered.

Brian felt the breath leave his body. How could Justin stand there and be so fucking brave, pouring out his emotions, after all that Brian had said? Clearly, the kid was delusional.

Brian squeezed his eyes shut, shutting out Justin. He couldn’t give in to him. He _couldn’t._ “No, you don’t love me. You don’t even know me,” Brian bit out. And it was true. Justin didn’t know what a heartless bastard he was. So to prove it, Brian turned and walked away from him, grabbing another trick and forcing him down on his knees to suck Brian off.

He didn’t look up when Justin hurried by him, racing towards the exit, tears streaming down his face. He didn’t look up, but he sure as fuck lost his hard-on. Once Justin was out of the backroom, Brian pulled away from the trick, zipped himself up, and slowly made his way to the bar. 

Ted was waiting for him, and for once the mild-mannered accountant looked pissed as hell, “Jesus Brian, what the fuck is wrong with you? He cares about you. And you—you just destroyed him.”

“That’s what I do,” Brian snapped, motioning for his bartender to pour him a double beam.

“That’s bullshit. You only destroy bastards like that bigot who ran for mayor. You _don’t_ destroy people that love you.”

“I did it with Mikey so he’d stay with the chiropractor.”

“Yeah, and look how well that turned out. You were miserable, he was miserable, you made up days later,” Ted snapped. “Besides, I thought you’d evolved. Justin loves you.”

Brian tossed back his drink. “He doesn’t even know me. He’s in love with some pathetic, sick, castrated version of me. I had fucking cancer. I was trapped by domestic bullshit, but now, now I’m back to being me.”

“What? Fucking random, faceless tricks in the backroom? Nights alone? An empty loft? Sounds fucking fantastic. Sure glad cancer gave you a new lease on life.”

“My life is fucking fantastic, Theodore. I don’t need or want a Stepford life. I want to fuck and drink and work without anyone fucking telling me what to do.”

“You mean, anyone counting on you.” Brian tightened his jaw at that. “Anyone you might let down, because Brian Kinney doesn’t deserve love. Is that it?” Ted asked.

“Jesus, Theodore, I’m not one of your fucking support group fags. Don’t analyze me.”

“Well, I’ve got news for you Brian. You’ve already got people that count on you. Me, Emmett, Mikey, Deb, Lindsay, Gus. And yeah, sometimes you let us down, sometimes you rip out our goddamn hearts, but sometimes you save us. Like you saved me. Like you saved Mikey with the comic book store. Like you saved fucking Liberty Avenue.”

“I’m not a fucking hero.”

“No, you’re not. You fucking need someone to save _you_ from yourself. And that’s Justin.”

“I don’t need anybody—“

“Yeah, yeah, save me the Kinney philosophy. Get your shit together, Brian. You survived cancer. Have a fucking life affirming epiphany.”

“And what do you suggest, Theodore?” Brian asked with condescending boredom. But deep down, he really wanted to know.

Ted placed his hands on Brian’s shoulders and looked him square in the eyes. “Be happy. You deserve it. You hear me? You deserve love.”

And with that, he walked away, leaving Brian sucker punched and questioning absolutely everything he believed about himself.


	12. A Second Look

**Chapter Twelve**

Justin nursed his coffee at the diner, not wanting to go home after the horrible scene with Brian in the backroom of Babylon. What the fuck had he been thinking getting involved with Brian Kinney of all people? He’d known the guy’s reputation; he’d seen firsthand how he pushed people away. He’d fired him, hadn’t he? But he really thought he’d been making progress.

So why had he risked it all with the paintings? Justin rested his chin on his crossed arms, defeated. He knew the paintings were the best work he’d ever done; Brian had inspired him, woken him up, made him not be so fucking safe in his art anymore. The bashing should have made him into a risk-taker, a survivor, but Justin knew it had just made him more cautious.

But seeing Brian fight cancer, falling in love for the first time in his life, fearing it might be taken away…that had brought back the talent that had gotten him accepted to PIFA in the first place. Hell, it had made him ten times better. And the paintings were of Brian, so they were beautiful, so beautiful. His professor had seen them in his art locker and insisted they be displayed. Maybe Justin should have said no. But in the end, Brian was going to leave him at some point, right? Better sooner than later. Maybe that’s why he’d done it. To see if Brian would stick around. He had his answer now, and it was breaking his heart.

“I know that look,” Debbie said coming over to refill Justin’s coffee. “What’d he do?”

“Who?” Justin replied, trying to play dumb.

“Don’t make me fish, spill your guts, kid. I saw him storm out of the gallery. Took a pretty big risk with those paintings, huh?”

“Shit,” Justin said. “I shouldn’t have displayed them.”  
“Nonsense, they’re fucking gorgeous. Besides, no one but us knows they were about Brian. He’s being a fucking drama queen.”

“You’ve got the fucking right.”

“Ouch,” Debbie said with a wince. “Brian always does work his shit out by shoving his dick up an ass, many asses, actually.”

“I feel so much better,” Justin sassed back. “But I only saw him shoving it in someone’s mouth.”

“Well, see, that’s progress. Look,” Debbie said, leaning down. “You took on Brian Kinney. You think this was gonna be easy? He’s a mess, and long before the cancer. Kid’s had a shitty life, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

Justin leaned in, curious. Brian had never shared much about his past and Justin was desperate to learn more, to understand him. “What else didn’t I hear from you?”

Debbie considered him for a moment, then leaned in, “Okay, he’d kill me if I told you, but the kid’s father was a mean fucking drunk and his mom’s a sanctimonious cold-hearted bitch. She told him he deserved to have cancer because he’s gay. And I’m the bitch that told her, so you know, we all make mistakes. I should’ve expected it. Not like she ever chose her son over her religion. Refused to leave her husband even when he beat the shit out of Brian.”

“Oh god,” Justin groaned, feeling sick, thinking about a young Brian, helpless and hurt. “Was it—was it bad?”

Deb nodded. “By the time, I met him, he was starting to fight back. But I took him to the emergency room once, and shit, the x-rays showed a lot of abuse. I told his parents I’d sic the police on them if it happened again. It may have, but Brian would avoid me then. He didn’t want to go into foster care.”

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Justin said, turning a bit green at the images in his mind.

“Hold it in, honey. You need to hear this. It wasn’t really the physical abuse that did him in; it was the emotional. His parents told him repeatedly he was unwanted, unlovable. By the time he befriended Mikey, well, the damage had been done. And my son, god love him, always encouraged Brian to be an unattainable stud, never wanted Brian to show any weakness, ‘cause he protected them all, you know. But I don’t think we did Brian any favors. See honey, Brian thinks the real him, the one no one sees, is worthless because his parents told him so.”

Justin choked back his tears, “But he’s so…loveable. He needs that, you know. He’s tired of being strong.”

“I know, honey. But compared to love, cancer was a fucking piece of cake. That’s how he works, honey. But you got him through cancer, I bet you can get him through love too.” She snapped her gum and patted Justin’s check. “He’ll come around, you’ll see. But make him grovel when he does,” she warned, and then she headed off to grab the pink plate special for a booth of drag queens.

Justin tossed a few bills on the counter and shrugged on his coat. He wasn’t giving up on Brian, but he wasn’t going to chase after him. No, he’d just be waiting when Brian came to his senses and realized he wanted Justin back…

Unless that took more than a month, then he was going to handcuff himself to Brian’s bed and force him to accept Justin’s love.

*  *  *

Brian arrived at the gallery the morning after his run-in with Justin. The PIFA Art Show would stay up the entire week, but it was early and he was the only person in the place. He walked over to Justin’s work and stopped in front of the paintings of him. It took everything he had not to run away from the brutal honesty of them, but Brian forced himself to look at them with detachment. With the critical eye he used to pick up apart an ad campaign.

But the longer he looked, the more Justin’s brilliance showed through. And maybe, just maybe, it revealed a part of him that didn’t seem so awful. Justin had called him beautiful. But how could that be when he knew he’d looked the worst he ever had while he was with Justin? That his body had been gaunt, not thin. His skin slightly grey. His eyes dimmed. His hair a mess. His fashion sense non-existent. His fabulous cock…flaccid.

And yet Justin had found him beautiful.

The gallery director headed over in his direction. “Amazing, aren’t they?” she mused. “I’m afraid they’re not for sale.”

“Why not?” Brian tried to ask casually.

“The artist said they were too personal; he wanted to keep them. But he turned down a lot of money, let me tell you. It’s hard to capture hope in a painting, redemption, strength. The prospective buyer had just been diagnosed with cancer. He said he prayed this is how he would face it; how’d he come out on the other side.”

Brian felt himself getting choked up. He didn’t know this woman. He didn’t know this buyer. But he heard the sincerity in the words. Had he really beaten cancer without it taking a part of him? Had it maybe…made him better?

“He should sell it,” Brian heard himself say.

“I’m afraid he won’t. The artist hasn’t even agreed to let them be photographed for an art magazine. It would be an incredible boost to his career,” the gallery director sighed. “But he said he needed the subject’s consent.”

Brian slid on his sunglasses and gave her a tight smile, “He has it. Call the magazine and let them know they can photograph it.”

“I—oh, yes, I see it now. It’s an honor,” she said, looking from the paintings to Brian, seeing his likeness in the lines of the body even though his face was always turned away in the paintings.  “I’ll call them right away. Thank you.”

Brian gave a swift nod and hurriedly exited before she could say anything more.

Ted was right. He was being an idiot. But he wasn’t sure how to fix the damage he’d done. Brian Kinney was damn good at wrecking relationships; unfortunately, repairing them was not part of his repertoire.


	13. Coming Home

**Chapter Thirteen**

Brian decided to brave Sunday dinner that weekend. He missed everyone, and he was wallowing in his own guilt. Maybe, if he got really fucking drunk, he could ask Deb for some advice on Justin. Or Ted. Ted might not make fun of him too much.

So Brian headed up to Deb’s house and stepped inside without knocking. Immediately, he felt a chorus of surprised greetings. Lindsay rushed up to greet him.

“I was about to send out a search party for you,” Lindsay said, cupping his face. “Have you been okay?”

He nodded; he hadn’t told Lindsay or Mel yet about the cancer. Or Emmett. He knew by the end of the night he would have to.

“Of course, he’s fine. I’m sure he’s just been fucking all over town,” Mel replied, but not in a nasty way. She even gave him a comical lift of her brows. Apparently, absence did make the heart grow fonder.

He smiled and then looked around the room. Deb had frozen with a tray in her hands, just staring at him. Before he could ask why, Justin barreled in the back door. “Okay, I’ve got the grill started.” And then Justin stopped short when he saw Brian, the color draining from his face.

Brian’s heart sank. Oh god, this was bad. Justin clearly hated him. He couldn’t handle this in front of everyone. So he immediately swiveled on his heel, shrugging his jacket back on, ready to walk away again, walk away from Justin, because it was too late. But then, he caught Justin’s devastated expression in the glass of Deb’s door window. And his hand paused on the knob. Shit, maybe that wasn’t hate in his eyes? Maybe the kid hadn’t gotten over him. I mean, he was here at Sunday dinner, ingratiating himself with Brian’s family, had stayed with him through cancer not out of pity or obligation, not for a money or a job, but because of…love. Goddamn love.

Brian fought against all the good things rising up inside him. Against Deb’s voice over all the years telling him there was good inside. Because, what if he wasn’t?

“Brian,” Justin whispered, and the sound, filled with pleading and longing and pain and love, hit Brian so hard he almost keeled over. 

Taking a deep breath, he turned and strode over to Justin, yanking him into his arms, kissing him so hard. So fucking hard, trying to pour everything he felt into the kiss. And then miraculously, Justin’s arms wrapped around him as he kissed him back. It was like coming home.

After long moments, Brian pulled back just enough to whisper, “If you call me your boyfriend in front of everyone, I’ll kill you.”

“Fine, life partner.”

Brian gave a crack of laughter and yanked him up the stairs.

“Do not fuck in my room,” Mikey yelled.

“It’s not your room anymore, Mikey!” Brian yelled back.

He pushed Justin into Mikey’s old bedroom and kissed him as if his life depended on it. “I missed you,” he murmured.

“I missed you, too,” Justin said, and pulled him onto the twin bed. He slowly undressed Brian, placing soft kisses on each inch of skin he revealed. Brian returned the favor, and right before he thrust into Justin’s tight warmth, he whispered, “I haven’t fucked anyone since you.”

Justin sighed, knowing that in Kinney speak that was pretty much an "I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Justin murmured and then gave in to the pleasure that only Brian could give him.

*  *  *

They headed back downstairs a while later, looking thoroughly debauched, and joined everyone already eating dinner.

“So,” Mel said with a smirk. “Is Justin what’s been keeping you busy the last few months?”

“I’d say so,” Emmett said with a wiggle of his brows. “It’s thoroughly naughty. Brian’s his boss.”

“Have you learned nothing?” Mel said with a pointed look, remembering a time when Brian had fucked a co-worker and almost been sued.

Justin sensed the tension and spoke up, “Well, Ted hired me, so technically, he’s my boss,” Justin explained.

“And he doesn’t work there anymore,” Ted added.

“What did you hire him for?” Lindsay asked, still reeling with the idea of Brian being actually involved with someone for _months._

“To intern in the art department,” Ted offered.

“Actually, to nurse me through my cancer,” Brian corrected.

The entire room ground to a halt. The bowl in Lindsay’s hand crashed to the floor. “What?” she asked.

“Cancer. It’s no big deal. I’m fine now. Can you pass the salad?”

*  *  *

“ ‘Can you pass the salad?’ Way to ease them in, Brian,” Justin said as soon as they returned to the loft, but he was smiling. If it hadn’t been so serious, he would have laughed his ass off. Brian did have his own way of doing things.

“It seemed easiest,” Brian replied with a shrug. “I don’t want to dwell on it too much.”

“Alright, we won’t dwell,” Justin agreed, then he walked over to Brian and squeezed his shoulders. “So, you’re no longer so breakable anymore, I take it.”

“Huh?” Brian asked, not sure what he was hinting at.

“Your body’s recuperating quite nicely,” Justin clarified with a leer, squeezing Brian’s ass.

Brian gave him a skeptical look. “Let me guess, you want to be tied up.” Brian shrugged and headed towards the bedroom, slipping out of his clothes, giving a melodramatic sigh to hide his excitement. “Fine, I can probably accommodate you.”

Justin followed, slipping off his shirt and shucking off his pants. Then he came up behind Brian, wrapped his arms around him, and slid his cock between Brian’s ass cheeks. “I would like you to accommodate me,” Justin said with a whole lot of meaning and another thrust.

Brian didn’t move for long, long moments. Justin waited with bated breath. Then slowly Brian crawled onto the bed. “If you’re not the best top I’ve ever had,” Brian warned, “I will fucking kill you. I didn’t survive cancer to bottom for just anyone.”

Justin did a happy dance and pounced on the bed, then gently bit Brian’s shoulder and nuzzled him. “I’m not just anyone,” Justin whispered.

Brian turned and look at him, then leaned in and kissed him deeply, making it very clear that Justin was definitely not just anyone.

A long while later, after he'd thoroughly prepared Brian and heard him screaming to the gods for Justin to "fuck me, fuck me harder," he also knew he was the best damn top Brian had ever had. 


	14. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, it's finally all uploaded!

**Chapter 14 - Epilogue**  

“I knew it, I knew you’d be fine,” Justin exclaimed as they walked out of Brian’s one year post-cancer check-up. The doctor had happily told them Brian’s tests had all come back negative. No cancer.

“Hmm, you got your birthday wish early,” Brian said, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Well, now I can expand my birthday wish to include a weekend in Vegas,” Justin said when they broke away.

“Really?”

“Uh-huh, I have this really hot, older sugar daddy that spoils me rotten. In fact, did you know you can get quickie marriages in Vegas?”

“Keep dreaming, Sonny Boy.” Brian didn’t panic. He knew Justin was teasing. Although they’d attended some dinner parties with the Stepford fags, and Justin adored Gus, he was still young and instead of ideas of family, hearth, and home, he dreamed of gallery shows with his work and trips to Rome and Paris. Brian figured those things he could handle.

“Hmm, I guess it is just a dream now. It’s not exactly legal. But someday…” Justin gave Brian a pointed look. Brian knew someday Justin might actually want all of those things. Which gave him time to get used to it. Plenty of time.

“Someday, I wish the poor sap you marry all my condolences,” Brian retorted, with no real heat to his words.

“Oh really? You know, I think Emmett still has a thing for me. Let me just call him up…” Justin threatened, pulling out his cell.

Brian snagged the phone out of his hand, pulling him closer with a tug on Justin’s t-shirt. “Over my dead body.”

“Not funny.” Justin glared at him, but when Brian gave his patented smirk, Justin couldn’t help but rolls his eyes: “I love you.”

Brian caught his breath for a moment, always taken aback at hearing those words. He could feel the correct response, hell, the truth, on the tip of his tongue.

Justin smiled, “You know, you’ve already faced down death once. I doubt three little words will kill you now.”

“I’m afraid to risk it.” And Justin knew he wasn’t referring to death, but something far, far scarier – a broken heart.

Justin pulled Brian in close, nuzzling his head against Brian’s shoulder, giving soft kisses and nibbles. “Well, how about for now, we just start with ‘me too’? Ready?” Justin kissed Brian’s neck sweetly and then whispered,  “I love you.”

Justin held his breath, and just as he was about to give up that Brian would ever say anything back, he heard very softly, “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you liked it.


End file.
